The Call of Duty: A Batman Beyond Fanfic
by aiwac
Summary: While an older and more experienced Terry McGinnis struggles with both his past and future decisions, an old enemy re-emerges to threaten everything he and Bruce have done for Gotham City...
1. Chapter 1

**Volume 1: Honorable Manhood**

**Part I: Once More unto the Breach**

**Prologue: Just Another Day**

[Ooooh, boy, is this scary for me. I mean, a sequel project to Through A Dark Mirror with practically no canon material? Am I insane? Shouldn't I leave well enough alone? Well, regardless of my fears, my muse or writing instinct or whatever you want to call it has put the metaphorical gun to my head and screamed "Write! You know you want to, so stop running away!"

So, I begin. Like I said above, this project is a continuation of Through A Dark Mirror, but it will spend most of its time on its own terms and without too many continuity tie-ins. There will be details from that story that I'll be tweaking or adjusting – nothing too drastic, mind you, but to anyone who might complain – hey, my story, my broken rules.

Seriously though, I hope you enjoy this. AIWAC]

Terry leaned back on the wall, wiping the sweat from his brow. Lifting his hand as if to begin roll call of his appendages, he started: Let's see - the vaccuming's done, trash is gone, all the rooms are made, did maintenance on the computers, took care of the bills, swept for any bugs…oh, slag it! Terry face-palmed his head so hard it hurt.

Running to the kitchen and still wincing from pain, he saw the full sink. He ran to it, grabbed the soap and sponge and commenced with the final clean up. Remind me again why we don't have a dishwasher, Mom? Oh, right, he snorted, it builds character. Guess Dad rubbed off on Mom more than she cared to admit. God, he missed him.

He was halfway done when the phone rang. He listened to the intercepted distress call, hung up, and prepared to move out. Quickly, he closed the faucet and grabbed his gear, managing to suit up just before he entered the Batmobile.  
The dishes would have to wait.

Mary and Matthew entered the house.

"Hello? Terry? You there? Terry?"

"He probably ran off again…that's what he always does…"

"Matt! Quiet!"

Mary slowly moved into the house with Matt in tow. Stopping every few seconds to rest on her cane, she saw the sink, half-filled with dishes and soapy water. She smiled warmly.

"Told you he ran off", the accuser said triumphantly, with an uncharacteristically hard tone.

"Matt", Mary said with a slightly sarcastic tone "I believe you still have five months worth of homework to finish. I seem to recall it's due next week."

"Aw, c'mon, Mom, I'll do it tomorrow!" Matt said, pouting.

"NOW, Matt, or no playdates or Cheezy Dan's for a year!"

The young one, bandaged but mobile, went to his room to complete the hated task, his victory snatched from him. As the door to his room closed, Mary warned,

"I'll be over there to check how much you've done in an hour!"

"Leave me alone, Mom!" was the desperate retort from the beaten party. Mary let it be, satisfied in her assertion of authority.

With Matt out of sight, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to make up some half-baked excuse for him to leave the house, after all. It was a shame, too, she thought with a devilish smile. Dana was on call and ready to help keep Terry away for the necessary hours of preparation.

Yet the thought of deceiving Terry, even for his own benefit, still rankled. Her son had sacrificed so much to take care of them – his own health, his time with Dana. Terry might have even lost his job, if Mr. Wayne wasn't such a compassionate person. But had Terry destroyed himself to help them? Had she unwittingly brought her son down?

For God's sake, Terry didn't even get to have a proper graduation ceremony. Now, here he was – living at home, without a GED, with "incompletes" or failing grades in every subject possible, how was he going to make it up? How much longer could he hold on to being an unskilled "errand boy" for an old, ailing billionaire? She'd worked so hard to keep Terry on the right path, and now some damned accident had derailed the whole effort.

"Slag it!", she mumbled under her breath, only to catch herself in horror. Angry at her outburst and lapse of manners, she debated herself.

No, Mary, you've been wrong about Terry before. Terry showed he can change tremendously for the better before, he'll do it again. Start having some faith in your son who's been caring for the family these past few months. He may yet surprise you. Even Mr. Wayne will see that Terry can be so much more than just an errand boy. Warren had incredible potential but he was always too shy to ever show it. Terry isn't afraid. Just you wait, Mary, he'll become far more than everyone ever expected.

The dishes were done just as her train of thought ended. Good, she smiled, now where did I put that recipe…?

Terry walked up the stairs to his house, having shed his uniform some blocks away. Instinctively clutching his side, he just as quickly let go. The physical pain of the past had long since left him, but the trauma was still there. Barb…the Commish was right; some hurts just don't go away. Maybe the Old Man wasn't so whacked after all.

Terry stood before the door, trying to think of how to explain to his mother that the dishes weren't done yet. After all, he'd assured her that everything would be perfect when they finally came home from their check-up. In the end, he couldn't think of anything particularly convincing. Sigh, the price of placing yourself on a pedestal after laying in the dirt for so long…

Terry opened the door, and noticed that the house was pitch dark. Wait, but Mom's car is outside…Terry's breath increased and his muscles tensed as he assumed combat position and shot a batarang into his hand…Moving slowly to the light switch, he illuminated the living room,

"Surprise!"

A stunned Terry found himself ready to ruthlessly assault a party of his friends and family. He retracted and reset the Batarang behind his back, relieved and overjoyed.

"Happy Birthday, dear", Mary said as she hugged and kissed her little boy, now legally a man. "I just wanted to say thank you, for everything you've done for us. I'm so proud of you. I made you your favorite – strawberry ice cream cake"

Terry smiled warmly as he surveyed his rather small audience, including his little brother, Dana and…

"Detective Roland?", he said as he let go of his mother.

The burly man smiled, "It's Lieutenant, now, sport. The paperwork and politics finally got smoothed out. You're looking at the new head of the SCU"

"SCU?"

"Special Crimes Unit. But, hey, this is your party, not mine", Roland said as he lightly punched Terry in the shoulder, "Happy Birthday, Terry, and congrats on becoming a man. If you're ever in the neighborhood, stop by and I'll buy you a drink"

"Lieutenant! My son may be eighteen, but I seem to remember drinking age is still 21!"

"It's allright" Frank said with a wink "I'll buy him something non-alcoholic. You don't need to worry about me corrupting your son, ma'am"

Mary breathed a sigh of relief, "I should hope not, especially with how far he's gone"

"Sure. Oh, before I forget – the Commish told me to tell you Happy Birthday and sorry she can't make it – you know, meetings and what not"

"It's OK", Terry said as he suddenly remembered that there was another missing person…

"I called him and texted him several times; the most I got was his answering machine. I guess the head of Wayne Enterprises is too busy to pay a visit to an 'errand boy'", Dana said with great displeasure, almost as if she were insulted personally.

Terry sighed, "It's OK, I'm sure he has more important things to do".

Besides, he thought, I'm not the only one he's blown off in his career.

"Come on, already, when are we going to have the cake?" Terry's junior cried in frustration.

"OK, twip, we're coming, we're coming"

Mary lit the candles on the cake and Terry was ready to blow them out when his phone rang.

"Slag it, give me half a second. Matt, stay away from the cake"

He moved to a safe spot to check out the emergency call, and turned off the phone, squeezing it hard. Why, why now?

"Mom, I've got to go, Mr. Wayne has an emergency"

"He doesn't even show up to your birthday and **he** has an emergency?!"

"It's OK, Mrs. McGinnis" Dana said as she came closer to Mary "I have a feeling Terry really is urgently needed"

Terry smiled sheepishly as he ran out the house to answer the call. Roland begged his leave as well, while Dana furiously began calling again.

"So, no cake?", Matt asked.

Terry finally got back to the house at 4:00 AM. Let's see, one armed robbery, three fires, and a run-in with Mad Stan. All in all, pretty average night, Terry thought as he silently opened the door. So much for the party; it's just another day, anyway. Maybe there's still some cake in the fridge…

The light suddenly came on again, activated by an old, but imposing old man, slightly hunched over yet still domineering.

"Jeez, you scared me, Bruce!"

"Sorry, old habits"

"I thought you weren't available", Terry said smartly, with a barely detectable tone of resentment.

Bruce Wayne looked with annoyance at the small, yet no less assertive figure in the living room. "Your girlfriend can be quite…insistent"

Dana Tan moved towards the two interlocutors, silently celebrating her victory.

"Come on, McGinnis" she said, motioning her head to the coffee table "I managed to wrestle a piece away from your brother. I'm afraid he ate the rest."

Once again, they set up the candles. Terry, who had been thinking of what to wish for all day, now knew exactly what to request from the powers that be. Holding Dana's hand, he blew out the candles.

Bruce leaned on his cane, smiled and congratulated his protégé,

"Happy Birthday, Terrence"

Basking in the comfort of those closest to him, Terry started to think that maybe there was something special to this day, after all…

NEXT: Chapter One: Welcome to the Pit


	2. Chapter 2

[The term 'Dreg Levels" is courtesy of Adam Beechen. The man has some flashes of good writing in spite of himself.

So, it begins . I will try to ensure the next chapter does not take as long to produce. - aiwac]

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

PART I: Once More Unto the Breach

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Pit

"They call it the Pit. The Dreg Levels. The Underworld. It's the part of neo-Gotham everyone pretends not to see; the part they wish did not exist. Running from the historical district through the sewers, and covering all the old industrial areas and docksides, **this** is the breeding ground and hideout for the worst monsters Gotham has to offer.

_graphic images appear of dead bodies, neglect, building decay_

Despair, decay and misery are the fate of all who live or pass through these areas. Police rarely come near the place. The only ones enjoying the chaos and anarchy are of course the criminals – whether gangs like the Jokerz or the Ts, or individual monsters like the Northside Butcher.

Tonight, Channel 12 takes a closer look at the underbelly of Gotham…"

Lieutenant Roland shut off the monitor. It wasn't like he wasn't about to get his own "closer look" at the No Man's Land under description. Besides, anyone who might object to his hitting the off button had long since evacuated the elevator. By level 5, Roland was entirely alone.

The newly minted Lieutenant watched as the numbers passed zero and began to go into the negative numbers. Roland wondered to himself whether the numbering of the levels was an accident of planning, or maybe an intentional statement of the city engineers, as if to say, "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Descend Beyond This Point".

His macabre train of thought was interrupted with a call from the person who assigned him here:

"Hey, Frank, it's Gordon. Just remember, Captain Martinez is a hardened veteran and a good friend of mine. Tread lightly"

"Sure thing, Commish", Roland said in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Something wrong, Frank?"

"It's just that this isn't what I pictured when I agreed to head this unit"

"I set up the SCU to deal with the cases that no-one else will touch, and the Pit is full of those"

"Maybe in this case there's a damned good reason", Frank murmured.

"Frank, I seem to recall that **you** were the one who complained about how you chased the spotlight and let the normal folk fall through the cracks. There are plenty of good people down there, not just dregs. The SCU could do a lot of good for them"

"Yeah" Frank laughed sarcastically "if it's ever set up"

"Did you even look at the resumes I sent you, Frank?", Barbara barked, her temper rising.

"Yeah, all 15 of them; went through them with a fine-tooth comb. Troublemakers, rejects and bums, the whole bunch. For some of them, this assignment is their last stop on the road to getting fired. Not one honest, solid cop in the whole list. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Commissioner"

"I'm going to let that slide, Frank, but only because I have so much faith in you. I had to pull a lot of political strings to get you that unit and those 'troublemakers'. Lots of people on the force don't think you've got what it takes to command a unit. You succeed with these odds, Frank, and you'll shut everyone up – and make a big difference while you're at it. Or you can complain and b*&^h to me and find yourself transferred to Nowheresville, Oblivion. Your choice"

Frank sighed deeply, "I'll take the first option, thanks"

"That's my boy. Good luck, Frank"

He placed the phone in his pocket just as a black blur whizzed by. Roland smiled as he saw the Batmobile, out on its nightly patrol, even in this hellhole. Now having to get cozy with so many strangers, it was nice to have a reliable friend down here…

***

Terry slowed down the Batmobile as he approached the old, decaying buildings of the Pit. Four years and a lifetime ago, this place was his teenage heaven and haven; a place with practically no cops or effectual grown-ups. There was nothing except property to destroy and people to scare. Terry could spend hours down here outwitting Jokerz and Ts and breaking windows without a care in the world.

Things looked different now from his vantage point. He thought of all the frightened people, hidden from view by lack of street lights and ruins. Hell, he had to slow down the Batmobile just to make sure not to shake any of the crumbling buildings, crushing their residents. Things didn't seem so fun now.

Was **this** the city for which Bruce had fought and bled for so many decades? Was this rotted slice of urban territory really worth a damn? Terry still couldn't understand why Bruce refused to let this place, this overgrown mausoleum die a dignified death. Developers and new people could then come in and give new life to this place, renewing historic Gotham from the bottom up. It would be good for everyone. Damn Bruce for being so stubborn. The man just didn't know how to deal with change.

A voice message played, rerouted from Terry's second cell-phone,

"_Hi, honey. Don't forget to pick up the laundry and the groceries. I spoke with the placement agency today – they said you never showed up to the appointment. _  
_  
Honey, I know you care about Bruce, but you've got to start spreading your wings. Besides, I know you don't like hearing this, but I really think that he's using you. I mean, he hasn't given you any training or education beyond being an errand boy. You're always there for him but he isn't there for you._  
_  
Don't you want to do something more with your life than be someone's servant, someone who just takes advantage of you? I know I didn't say this enough before, but I think you have so much potential. Don't hold yourself back just because of me __**or **__Mr. Wayne. I believe in you, Terry._  
_  
Love you. Bye"_

Terry cringed with every word of his Mom's message. Part of it was the fact that far from neglecting him, Bruce had been riding him harder than ever, making him take multiple e-classes in different subjects on the highest level (under pseudonyms, of course). It pained him to hear Bruce insulted without just cause, in spite of his stubbornness.

But, no, it was mostly something else. Mom, Dana, even Bruce were treating Terry very differently than years past. They **believed** in him, saw **potential** in him. They **trusted** him to succeed. It was months since Terry had gotten the standard earful from Bruce about how much he screwed up. Now it was more encouragement and egging on, things Terry never thought Bruce was capable of. All of the people in Terry's life were rooting for him instead of deriding him.

Instead of providing relief, this new reality felt like an unbearable burden. Terry often pined for the days when he was a worthless dreg with no skills or potential, when no-one expected anything from him. After all - no expectations, no disappointment. But now? What if I'm not as good as everyone says I could be? What if I let everyone down? What if I let Gotham down?

Life was a lot easier when he didn't have so much riding on him.

Life was a lot easier when people didn't expect him to be some kind of God.

***

She saw the Batmobile whiz by the elevator as she descended into the Pit. She laughed bitterly to herself. The Dark Knight? More like the Black Knight, a usurper who now roamed his stolen kingdom with an arrogance unbefitting a true king.

If she had any guts, she'd rip the heart out of that smooth-mouthed, cocky…No. That was not her mission. Like He would often say – play to your strengths, leave weaknesses to your enemies. Right now, her strength **was** her weakness; no-one would suspect what she'd done, what she was ready to do. But as He would say - surprise is an advantage you can only use once. Much better to wait for the right opportunity.

The negative numbers now reached into the double digits as she felt increasingly safe, even empowered by the lawless atmosphere. She left the elevator and entered the security codes, safely passing through the bio-locks. If the usurper ever found this place, there would be some nasty surprises waiting for him.

She encountered Dr. Stanley just as he was finished with his examination.

"Any news, Doctor?", she asked in a businesslike tone, hiding her concern.

"I'm afraid he's still the same. Physically he's over the worst of it, but mentally he seems to be in a catatonic state", he said, fidgeting with his e-pen and avoiding eye contact.

"OK, thank you for your time, Doctor", she said finally catching his gaze.

"Look, you really don't need me here. There are many doctors I could recommend tha..."

"You're the best in your field, Doctor. It would be a shame if any of this got out and you lost your license. Besides, your sister is still in need of care at Gotham General. It would be a shame if the care was discontinued suddenly…"

"You wouldn't…"

"I'll do whatever it takes, doctor. Your regular presence here is not negotiable. See you Thursday"

Doctor Stanley watched as she went past him to the door of the patient's room. He still couldn't believe that someone like her could be that cold. He'd kill her if he had the guts, and if there weren't so many security measures in here. Dejected, he left the room, mentally making a note to come on Thursday.

He was right – the feeble-minded are easily manipulated. She observed Him through the observation window, her hand lovingly caressing His body from afar. After several minutes of observation, she left.

"I'll be back", she whispered, in a tone as soft as she was normally harsh.

***

He laid there in the sterile room, a hulking body whose mind was trapped inside itself. The memories of earlier days swirled within him, repeating over and over. One particular scene seemed to stick out in his mind:

_He struggled with the strange net, demanding to know what was going on. Then his captor appeared, a smirk of victory on his face._  
_  
"Just catching up on lost time, Dad. We never did go fishing together…we never did go fishing together…"_

NEXT: Chapter 2: Routine Matters


	3. Chapter 3

[I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Work got in the way. The "Mister Lucky" character is apparently something of an in-joke among BB fans, so I thought I might give him a more substantial role for this and the next chapter. - aiwac]

NEXT: Chapter 2: Routine Matters

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

PART I: Once More Unto the Breach

Chapter 2: Routine Matters

The elevator finally stopped at the designated level. Roland exited and walked towards the station, his hand always ready to draw his service weapon if need be. The precinct was so resource-poor they couldn't even provide an escort. The commissioner was right about one thing – if he succeeded with these odds, he'd be the God-d**ned cop of the century. Maybe even better than Gramps Harvey. Now **there **was a scary thought.

Frank entered the only bastion of law this side of the Dreg levels, flashing his ID for what felt like twenty different checkpoints. Well, at least the security's good, he chuckled. Better than for anyone outside, anyway. He weaved his way through the different offices until he reached the Captain's office. The captain looked weary, yet his eyes were filled with hope:

"Captain Louis Martinez"

"Det…Lieutenant Frank Roland", he quickly corrected himself.

"Welcome to the Dreg Levels, Lieutenant"

"Yeah, looks like a great place to live"

"Well, that's why you're here, or so Barbara tells me. So, where's your team?"

"Still under construction", Roland said, his eyes lowered.

"You interviewed anyone yet?", Martinez asked, his voice slightly anxious.

"Like I said, it's under construction", Frank said in the same tone.

So much for the reinforcements, Martinez thought. Well, maybe it's time for some tough love.

"Listen, Roland. You're not the first big shot to come through here and treat it like a stepping stone for bigger and better things. I know what they say about this precinct at headquarters. I've heard the whisperings.

But you're under **my** authority now, and if you want that recommendation out of here sometime in the next decade, you're gonna have to earn it. Barbara may recommend you because of the Butcher case, but my word goes a lot farther in her office.

I expect you to have a list of people and a game plan by the end of next week. You got it?"

The force of the last phrase struck Roland like a blow to the gut.

"Come on, let me show you to your office"

Roland followed, saying not a word. Finally, they arrived at an old door with a simple digital readout announcing that this was the office of Lt. Frank Roland, SCU. Roland opened the door and frowned. Martinez inquired,

"Anything wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing. I guess I was hoping for something better."

"So was I", Captain Martinez said sharply. Both men retired to their offices.

Oh, yeah, Roland thought, cop of the frickin' millennium.

***

Fred "Mister Lucky" Watkins tapped his fingers anxiously on his suitcase. He hoped this would go as quickly and as smoothly as possible. It was bad enough he had to endure such an insulting moniker; it wasn't **his** fault that Jokerz kept latching onto him. Still, he endured it. He could take the snickers and the taunting. As long as he got the job done and stayed alive, it was enough.

Besides, there was a comforting routine in what he did now. Now, he just paid the money necessary to keep the bad people away. Every week, he needed to degrade himself and offer the bribe that granted him safety. It was a small price to pay.

He got off at the designated stop, checking carefully that he wasn't being followed. The police could only harm matters. They would make a few arrests and everything would just repeat itself, only this time he'd have to pay even more. They should just leave well alone.

Approaching the corner, he turned right at the usual place, facing a group of Jokerz who looked barely interested. One of them looked at him as though he was property, branded cattle. If he were braver, if he were stronger, maybe he would not supplicate himself like this. But he wasn't, so he merely presented the offering to his masters.

***

Terry took a sip from the energy drink container in the Batmobile. He wondered what Bruce did in the days before this stuff. The man must have gone through a week's rations just to make it through one night. Or maybe Alfred was just that good a cook.

Not that he'd need to finish his supply for this battle. A dreg from a local Jokerz gang had given him the location of an extortion drop-off point just an hour before. According to him, there were only a few guys handling the pick-up duty. Should be a piece of cake.

Terry spotted the location from the Batmobile, just in time to see someone give away what was probably a suitcase full of credits. All of this was out in the open, but a mile and half from the nearest police station. It infuriated Batman that they were so brazen, that they took such pleasure in harming another person. It hit too close to home.

Turning the Batmobile around for a straight run, he dove straight out at the offenders. With no time to react, the Jokerz quickly succumbed to the Dark Knight's assault; their clumsy tactics collapsing before Batman's fighting prowess. With nine of the ten Jokerz either unconscious or writhing in agony, Batman let the last one go to spread the word.

The retreating Jokerz obliged, but not before firing off one last taunt to his former victim, who was now hiding behind a garbage can for cover,

"We'll be back. Count on it!"

Batman clenched his teeth but held back, confident that he had achieved his mission. He placed the loose credits inside the dropped suitcase and closed it. Terry wasn't sure of a lot of things, but the fact that he could help someone else was enough to keep him going. Sometimes it was the only thing he had.

Batman handed the suitcase to the frightened man. Trying to moderate his voice as much as possible, he tried to calm him,

"It's OK. They're gone"

"Mister Lucky" snapped. Maybe it was the months of harassment. Maybe it was the constant bullying he'd endured. Maybe it was his constant desire to be a braver person than he was, his wish that he were the one returning the suitcase instead of hiding behind garbage. Whatever it was, he just couldn't take it anymore.

"You…you think you've helped me!" he screamed as he brushed away the suitcase, "They'll just make me pay more next time!"

Batman stepped back in surprise. Lucky continued his assault,

"You think you're such a hero? You think you can just show up, scare a few of them and that'll make it all OK?"

"Sir, I…"

"There are thousands of them down here. Maybe you can take a few of them out, but they know that in their little hideaways they're safe from guys like you. Cause even you don't have the guts to fight hundreds at a time. And if you did, you'd be dead"

"Hey! That's…"

"Why…why couldn't you just leave it alone!", he yelled, his finger pointing in accusation at the city's protector, "Why couldn't you spend your time fighting supervillians or go showboating somewhere else! Don't you understand? You didn't help me. You can't help me."

Terry didn't know what to say. He let the rescued, but ungrateful man go. Who knows, maybe he'd have done the same in his place.

Batman continued his patrol throughout the Pit, breaking up robberies and saving lives. Yet his conversation from earlier that evening continued to gnaw at him.

Why? This wasn't the first time Gotham's citizens were ungrateful; just two years ago they were more than willing to let Shriek kill him so they could be safe for another day.

Still, the force of this blow was particularly powerful. Terry felt blindsided, no less than when Kevin Cunningham blasted him into the river months ago. Somehow, he felt the two were connected.

He needed answers fast. Here's hoping Bruce has some.

***

She contemplated how she'd left Him lying there, prostrate and helpless. Once a might Titan of industry and the King of Gotham, Derek Powers was still helpless after eighteen months of treatment and care.

What Dr. Stanley said, that he was "over the worst of it", made her both hopeful and frustrated. She felt impatient. Hadn't she, hadn't He suffered enough? Wasn't it time to finish this anguish and bring Him back? How much longer would she have to wait, doting over him while he lay paralyzed? Months? Years? Decades?

No. No more. Like He said, never miss a good opportunity. She made the call.

"Dr. Stanley"

"Why are you calling me here? I thought we agreed no contact during my office hours", he said nervously.

Stung, but determined, she ignored his plea.

"I remember you telling me that there's an experimental procedure that could shake him out of catatonia"

"Yes, and I also told you it's very risky. He might die. He might go berserk and kill you. Is that all?"

"You're doing the procedure come Thursday"

"But I just…"

"I heard every word. I'll take the risk. Thursday, Dr. Stanley, or you can visit your sister at the cemetery from now on"

His breathing increased in tempo. She could practically feel the sweat through the phone.

"Fine. Thursday"

He hung up.

She sighed with relief. Whatever happens, it will all be over soon.

NEXT: Chapter 3: Darkness and Light


	4. Chapter 4

[There's a nice little homage to the movie that started it all in 1989. See if you can spot it. That is all. aiwac]

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

PART I: Once More Unto the Breach

Chapter 3: Darkness and Light

The cave was especially quiet. Not a sound could be heard as the two Batmen stood with their back to each other, each intensely focused on their respective tasks. The air was so thick, you couldn't cut it with a batarang.

Terry stood looking at the imposing suit of armor. The white eyes of the helmet glared at him. They penetrated his soul, accusing him of failure. You are unworthy of this mantle, a boy who can't even gain the loyalty of a clerk. Terry's heart sank and then fought back, resisting the message. I've come this far; I won't give up now. He turned to his partner for support.

Bruce went through his protégé's e-course test results. Good, but not good enough. Damn it, he can do better. I've seen him pull off miracles when his back is to the wall. He's not trying hard enough – why?

"I know what you're thinking"

Bruce turned around. How?

"I should just leave it alone. I'm not in this for him, anyway"

Bruce forced himself up. It hurt like hell.

"You can help them. You can't make them appreciate it"

Terry looked down, "The problem is he's right. I can't be everywhere. We learned that lesson the hard way more than once"

"You don't need to be. You need to get people like him to trust you, to trust in Batman. It's all you can do."

His words sounded harsh, but at the same time they were smooth, almost soothing. It almost felt like he was being encouraged. Almost.

Terry laughed,

"Yeah, and all I have to do is take out a few hundred Jokerz"

"Batman will find a way"

Bruce turned his back to Terry and started moving up the stairs.

"I'll be in the library if you need me"

With his back to Terry, Bruce smiled. The boy was finally starting to get it.

Terry's eyes followed the old warrior as he ascended the stair. Just like that. No advice. No specific instructions. Just a silent vote of confidence.

Slowly, Terry's blood began to flow and his strength started to return. He started to feel something he'd never felt before. He couldn't put his finger on it, but all he knew was that he greatly desired it and would do anything possible to keep it.

"Hey! Get off!"

Terry brushed off the swooping bats and looked furiously at the attackers' relatives.

"Slag it, I…wait a minute…"

He saw the creatures hanging in their hundreds from the cave, a veritable army of winged beasts. Moving quickly towards his equipment table, he picked up some stuff he'd been working on. He held up the small machines and the controls and then looked at the sky of his lair. Then he shifted his attention to the mass equipment "printing machines".

His eyes lit up and he smiled.

I think Batman just found a way.

***************************

Bozer knew he wasn't top of the heap. If the toilet assignments and mop duties weren't enough to prove that, there was the fact that everyone kept calling him "Nozer" on account of…well, you know. Still, better to be bottom of the food chain here than be like that dumb glasses-wearing dreg from last week. Bet he's still hiding somewhere smelly. Bozer smiled. He may be a bottom-feeder, but here even bottom-feeders could be kings.

Batman stood just out of sight of the Jokerz HQ, although calling it an HQ might be an exaggeration. It was a disused meat factory at the edge of one of the abandoned zones, kinda like the one he raided when he went looking for her parents…

He shook the memory from his mind and got out the remote.

Bruce thrived on accurate, minutely precise plans. For this to work, he'd need chaos.

He activated the switch.

*********************

Bozer walked up the stairs to get another mop. If another one breaks…Slag It! Bozer started running like mad to get away from the millions of frickin bats swooping down on him. He ran as fast as he could, fell down, got up and kept going. The bats flew lower and lower, screeching an unbearable noise.

He ran toward the door, but suddenly gas blew everywhere. Can't see anything, cough, cough, can't get up. His comrades swept past him, fleeing frantically to get out.

"Come on, Nozer! We've gotta get out of here!"

Suddenly the floor collapsed and a strange arm pulled his gang-mate through the floor.

"Aaaaaaaah!"

Gotta get out of here, gotta get out…No, not the exit…the broom closet! It's safe in there! He ran back towards his original goal when another Jokerz ran past him.

"No, idiot, the exit's THIS wa…unhh"

The monster revealed himself for a brief moment, sweeping up his prey and disappearing just as quickly. Gotta get to the closet, cough, cough…He finally groped his way into the safe room. Outside he could hear his comrades screaming for help, their yells making him even more terrified. Just let it end, God, just let it end.

After what seemed like forever, the noise died down. There was no more screeching or yelling. Just dead silence.

He got up and opened the door.

The strange arm grabbed him and pulled him up high off the ground. Suddenly he found himself dangling over the abyss. It was so dark he couldn't even see the arm's owner.

"Please, cough, please don't kill me"

A small light revealed only the monster's face.

"I'm not going to kill you"

The voice was so unfamiliar. This couldn't be the same guy. Still, he had nothing to lose now that…

"You, you, you killed my fr…"

"They'll live. I want you to listen carefully"

He nodded furiously.

"I want you to tell all your friends about tonight, because this is just the beginning. I can get you anytime, anywhere. It's open season on Jokerz"

Then he threw him onto the ledge and disappeared.

Bozer saw the smoke clear from above, revealing a whole mess of unconscious and injured Jokerz. The monster had been as good as his word.

From up here, he didn't feel like such a king anymore.

***************

Batman found the spray paint stash and took all the blacks and reds. Moving along the corridors, he saw the Jokerz tags all over the walls. The Hahas evoked painful memories of earlier times. He remembered when he was as helpless as that clerk. No more.

He covered all the Hahas in black. Then, in the main plant room, he sprayed the symbol. Dripping down in bright red with sharp edges and placed against a pitch-black canvas, Terry's work of art evoked the most terrifying images - of hell, of demons and every imaginable terror. No more laughing and clowning around.

He looked at the symbol and was dissatisfied. This was the image the criminals must see, but it was not what he was about. Not if his fight with Mad Dog meant anything. Batman must mean something more than just a scary monster to keep the badguys away.

He took the last of the red spray paint cans and headed out.

The criminals had to see a distorted version of him, but those under his protection must know the truth.

There was no other way to trust someone.

Working with Bruce had taught him that much.

*************

Mister Lucky sat nervously in the elevator, constantly checking the time and making sure he had all the money. He'd even made sure to add a little extra something to sweeten the deal. Everything would be back to normal.

He got out of the elevator and started walking towards the alley. Suddenly, he stopped.

There was something on an old lamppost just before the turn right to the alley. It was the badge – clean, sleek, red. He sneered and started to move past it when a tiny image projector started up from a nearby building. He saw the images in front of him – hundreds of Jokerz from the local hideout running in fear and limping in pain.

He had done his part. The guardian had gone into the belly of the beast and risked his life, just to prove that he really was who he said he was. The badge on the lamppost suddenly felt less like a boast and more like a statement of reproach – "When I say I'll do all I can to protect you, I mean it." Lucky felt so ashamed at being such a coward, sending someone else to take such risks.

But now, he had to make the call:

He could turn right and find the pick-up crowd, proving forever that he was not only a coward but a hypocrite. Or he could walk away, risking the wrath of the Overlords of the Pit but repaying the trust of Gotham's Dark Knight. Conflicting emotions, fears and thoughts ran through lucky as he tried to decide what to do.

He stood at the junction between darkness and light, unsure which road went where.

He stood there for a long time.

END: Once More Unto the Breach

NEXT: PART II: All In The Family


	5. Chapter 5

Volume One: Honorable Manhood

Part II: All in the Family

Chapter 1: Fathers and Sons

Terry had made all the necessary plans. Ace was taking a nap downstairs. Bruce's snores were too regular to be faked, even for him. He'd already practiced avoiding all the squeaky spots on the floor. The package was sealed shut; even Ace couldn't detect its contents.

Satisfied that even he couldn't hear his own breathing, he began. Quickly, quietly, the apprentice moved across the floor. He scrambled behind the table, peering out to make sure he hadn't been spotted. No, Bruce was still stationary. A large section of open ground lay between the table and the couch. Terry sweated a little, and then brushed it off. No mistakes.

Terry placed the package under his arm and waited. A major snore came and then Terry made a mad dash, keeping his head low to avoid detection. He'd overcome the last major obstacle. He started to silently exult at the coming victory, his blood rushing to his head. Don't get cocky, McGinnis. Damn. Even when he's asleep the Old Man won't get out of his head.

Terry finally arrived behind the chair itself. He slowly moved his arm to place the package on the table, when suddenly Bruce sneezed, noticed the strange arm and grabbed it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Slag it, I was so close! I wanted to surprise you"

Bruce released his grip and inspected the package. It was a soup container, vacuum packed. He opened its contents and took a whiff.

"This isn't what I usually eat"

"I know. I found Alfred's recipe book in the kitchen, thought I might try one his specials. Don't worry, I checked it against your meds, it's all schway"

"I…thank you" he said in a muffled tone of voice, almost as if he was embarrassed.  
They walked together back to the table.

"I still think I could have got you"

"I'm sure you will…someday", the master said with a smile, half-smirking and half-proud of his apprentice's progress. "Speaking of which, have you had anything to eat?"

"Yeah, Mom kind of insisted I take this before I leave. Well, barred the door until I would take it is more like it", he said as he took out another large sealed tray of food from his back "though I don't think she'd approve of how I carried it"

They each took up their respective seats at the ends of the table. Bruce looked at Terry, who was gobbling up his food like a wild animal. Terry spotted it and tried to slow down a bit. To clear the air, Bruce tried to start up conversation,

"So where did you learn to cook?"

"My Dad, mostly", Terry said between bites of chicken, "on our hikes he'd teach me how to prepare food from scratch and all sorts of other survival skills"

"Really?" Bruce said, genuinely curious.

"Yeah. He even tried to use it to get me interested in chemistry that way – you know, exact temperatures, ingredients. He even got me this chemistry set with all sorts of cool…"

His enthusiasm increased until he saw Bruce's face and remembered who he was talking to. No need to rub salt in **that** wound…I'll shut up now.

Bruce and Terry continued to eat silently. The silence was palpable, almost suffocating. The tragedy that turned the house into a tomb was now just as still.  
Terry was just about to finish when the senior Batman piped up,

"Medical Kit"

"Excuse me?"

"My Dad…got me a junior medical kit for my eighth birthday. He...also wanted me to follow in his footsteps"

"I'm sure he'd be really proud of you if he could see you today"

Bruce didn't respond. He'd exerted himself enough already. The memories were still too painful.

He remained at the table after Terry had taken his bowl away, his hands cusped together and his mind lost in thought.

***

Terry was finally finished with all the errands. He descended into the Batcave and sat down next to the computer. Time to give the chemistry e-courses another crack. Who knows? Maybe this time, I'll do…

The access was blocked. A single message told him to move to the back room. Terry obeyed, wondering what he'd find. It's probably just Bruce about to chew me out for not acing everything in one go. When he got to the room, his jaw dropped ever so slightly.

Before him lay an extensive chemistry set laid out on a large table. Surrounding it was what seemed to be every type of equipment imaginable. A single note of paper lay before the many elements and chemicals. He lifted it and read its contents:  
**  
You'll find a flash drive under the table with a list of all the things you can do with this equipment. I expect a full, detailed report every week on what you've done.**  
**  
Get to work.**  
**  
"Dad"**

Terry smiled and silently laughed. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the old man had gone soft.

He looked up and suddenly the equipment and the study was less of a burden and more of an opportunity. If only Dad could be here. He went to work with gusto, writing down the results of each experiment. At least I'll make **you** proud, "Dad".

Elsewhere, Bruce looked outside the window of the mansion. He let himself express his gratitude in his usual taciturn way,

"Thank you, Warren"

***

Frank Roland looked at the time on the computer in his office. Jeez, it's already 11:00 PM! He face-palmed and shook his head. Time seemed to be flying by down here. Meantime, Captain Martinez's deadline was only three days away. But the questions that plagued him would not go away:

How can this be anything other than a unit of bums and rejects? Worse, how could he lead a unit at all? Maybe everyone's right, he thought, I really am too green.

Roland looked at Gramps Harvey's hat, the one he always wore to work.

"I don't suppose you've got any ideas?" he said. Sighing, he resigned, "Yeah, didn't think so"

Roland yawned and set an alarm for 10 minutes. Maybe some shut-eye will do me good…  
_  
He walked to his booth at the shooting range. Finally, he'd do that qualification he'd been ducking for half a year. After flashing his ID to the computer eye, he entered the secure booth._  
_  
Roland placed the earphones on and got a good grip on the gun. The target screen turned on and Roland took aim._  
_  
"You gonna shoot me again, Frank?"_

Roland awoke with a start. The alarm had another five minutes to go. Slag it, Cunningham would never give him peace…Something clicked inside Roland's head. The pieces finally came together.

He knew exactly what he needed to do, and in a strange way, it was Gramps who would help him do it.

***

She watched as Dr. Stanley attached the equipment to His head. Covering her mouth to hide her concern, her anxiety reached its peak. She could hardly contain herself with excitement.

Dr. Stanley forced her to the back of the room for her own safety, and once again tried to forestall the procedure,

"You **sure** you want me to continue?"

She turned her head in anger and annoyance to His potential savior,

"Do it. Now"

Stanley took a deep breath and activated the mechanism. The magnetic forces went into overdrive, applying tremendous pressure to Powers' psyche. They stood there for several minutes as the machines put Him through an invisible vice. He didn't make a move.

"Give me that!" she said as she increased the strength even more

"Hey, what are you doing? You'll kill him!"

"Better that than let him be like this!"

Stanley looked towards his patient and then glanced at the monitors. His jaw dropped.

"I don't believe it"

"What?"

"His brain – what's left of it - is starting to repair itself. He's healing"

"How long will it take?," she said with her hand still fingering the controls.

"I don't know for sure, but at the rate I'm seeing here – I'd say no more than a few months. But **only** if you reduce the power"

Her hand froze. So close, yet so far. Just a few more months and it would all be over. Forcing her hand onto the remote, she reduced the mechanism to normal levels.

"Thank you, Doctor"

Stanley felt almost insulted.

"I may be here against my will, but I take my Hippocratic Oath seriously. Come on, let's leave", he said as he took away the remote.

As she walked away, she took once glance back at Him. I wonder what He's thinking right now…

***

The repeating scene from the submarine suddenly stopped, only to be replaced a garbled mess of memories, thoughts and dreams. Scenes of Wayne-Powers interspersed with nerve gas and a sinking sub came all at once. The pain was unbearable. Finally, the cacophony ceased, and his mind restarted, as if the movie of his life would now play out in order…  
_  
He sat next to a desk in a rather large bedroom. It seemed so familiar…_  
_  
Getting up from the desk, he walked around. He had to push hard on the handle to open the door; why was he so weak? _  
_  
When he got out into the hall, he saw someone familiar, someone he hadn't seen in years…_  
_  
"Trevor?"_  
_  
The older boy smiled._  
_  
"Hey, there, little brother"_

NEXT: Chapter 2: Brotherly Love


	6. Chapter 6

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

Part II: All in the Family

Chapter 2: Brotherly Love

"You have all the information?"

"YES, Mom" Terry replied for what felt like the fifth time.

"and you remember his schedule? You know you'll have to get up at 7:00 AM tomorrow sharp! The school bus won't accept 'Mr. Wayne' as an excuse and I won't either"

"Yes, Mom, you told me at least fifteen times today", Terry said, exasperated.

"and you promise you'll sign up for the GED course **today**?", she said as she was packing the last of her things. "No excuses, Terry. I won't take no for an answer"

"**Yes**, Mom, I'll do it as soon as you le…", he caught himself, barely in the nick of time, "I'll do it today, I promise"

"I know it's hard to let go of Mr. Wayne, but you're not a teenager anymore. Time to start being an adult", she said as she kissed him on the cheek, "Good Luck, Honey"

"My phone is on if you need me", she said as she closed the door.

Terry breathed a sigh of relief. She'd only be gone a day. What could go wrong?

"So, twip, what do you want to do?", he said. No answer.

Terry moved to the living room where he found Matt completely fixated on the latest video game. He laughed silently to himself. Spellbinder had nothing on the PS10.

Wait a minute…

Looking at the screen, he saw a very realistic version of himself fighting Gotham's Public Enemies. Matt was on the Mad Stan level. What the hell?

Doing a quick background check on his phone, Terry saw that the game was based on "a collection of media footage and interviews with various sources about the struggles between Gotham's Dark Knight and his Rogues' Gallery". You've got to be kidding me. Next thing you know they'll make a movie starring Madigan as the main rogue. The bastard had certainly earned it…

"This is so cool", Matt said in between jumps and batarang shots.

The Batman part of Terry felt contempt for this glib view of his struggles as a game instead of a life and death struggle against some of the worst monsters Gotham had ever produced – past and present. Terry McGinnis quickly silenced that train of thought. Better that Matt enjoy himself and have a normal childhood than be traumatized for life. He didn't need to know the truth. Besides, they seem to have done a pretty good job. Maybe he could use the game for his training.

After watching his brother advance to the Shriek stage, he suddenly remembered Mom's GED ultimatum. Terry turned on his computer and spent some time going over the GED requirements. He laughed. Bruce made him study stuff that made this look like first grade homework. Passing this will be a cinch. He signed up and sent the confirmation to Mom. Finally, something she could be proud of that he didn't have to hide from her.

He spent some more time going through crime reports until he noticed the time. Slag it!

"Matt, time to turn it off, you've got homework to do"

"Yeah, yeah, in a few minutes"

Terry moved in front of the screen.

"NOW, Matt"

The digital warrior simply converted the feed to his phone and continued playing. Terry then disconnected the console and used the Parent control app Mom had given him to shut the program down.

"Hey!"

"NOW, Matt"

"Fine, sheesh", he said as he uploaded his homework onto the family computer.

"I bet **Batman** doesn't have to do stupid homework"

You think so, smart guy, Terry smirked.

"I'm going to make food. Call me if you need any help"

"Yeah, right, like **you** can help me" Matt pouted, "a loser who didn't even finish high school"

Terry clenched his fists and his gaze narrowed. He stared at Matt for a few minutes, took a deep breath and reopened his hands. Ungrateful twip…

*****

"Matt, come on, dinner's ready!"

Matt sauntered in, showing Terry the digital confirmation of homework completion. Terry served him his portion, which Matt ate without comment. Terry finished his portion and washed Matt's plate as well.

Then he got the call.

"Matt, I have to go, Mr. Wayne has an emergency. Remember to go to bed by nine sharp, allright"

"Yeah, yeah"

"I'm serious, Matt! Or I'll shut down your comp-phone for a month"

"OK, OK", Matt skulked and went back to playing Batman.

Terry went off to do the real thing.

*****

Batman returned to his room exhausted. He was too tired to even joke to himself about the past night's events. Checking the clock, he cringed. 4:00 AM. It's OK. I can get up in time. I've handled worse, he thought as he collapsed on the bed, just barely managing to set the alarm.

…

Terry awoke with a start. The clock was flashing and buzzing. 6:58 AM.

"Slag it!"

He ran to his brother's room and banged on the door.

"Matt, Matt, get dressed now!"

"Just a few more minutes…"

Terry got into the room and picked his twip brother out of bed.

"Come on, get dressed!"

"OK, OK! Sheesh!"

Terry ran out of the room to prepare Mat his lunch. Checking his options, he decided a sandwich will have to do. Finishing its packing, he yelled out,

"Matt, you ready?"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!", he said, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

Terry grabbed him by the arm, got out of the house and locked the door. They made it to the corner and Terry checked the time again. 7:02 AM. Damn.

"Any chance the bus is late?", Terry asked his brother.

"No", he said in a sarcastic tone, "Mom usually has me out ten minutes ahead because it keeps coming early"

"Fine, we'll take the car…"

"Mom took it, remember? Idiot"

Terry felt like slapping him in the back of the head but then abstained. He didn't have the cash on hand to take a taxi – had to keep up appearances. A public bus would take too long. Mom would never forgive him. But what option does that le…

He saw his bike parked on the curb. Then he looked at Matt. Under any other circumstances,  
he'd say no, but…

…

"Wooo-hooo! This is so cool!", Matt yelled as he held on to Terry.

"Remember, hold on tight"

"OK, where did you get these cool straps, anyway?"

"Just had a few lying around"

In the Batsuit. But they looked normal enough, and that's what counted.

Terry kept his eyes on the road and carefully got them to school in one piece. Matt finally shut up when he took the adjustable helmet off.

"Remember, twip, you breathe a word of this to Mom and you're dead meat"

"Yeah, yeah" Matt said, reverting to his sarcastic form, "Here's your stupid helmet"

Matt stood and watched his brother ride off. He may be a twip. He's certainly not as cool as BATMAN. But maybe he isn't such a loser after all. Who knew?

***************  
_  
Derek looked at his older brother for a few minutes, trying to grasp where he was. OK, I'll play along._  
_  
"Where's Dad?"_  
_  
"In his office, where else?", Trevor said disappointingly, "not that he actually does much there"_  
_Derek sneered. _  
_  
"Hey, you want to see what I've been working on?"_  
_  
"Sure", Derek said with a smile._  
_  
Trevor was eight years older than Derek, far less sociable but a real whiz kid. So trusting, too. Derek sat as he prattled on and on about all sorts of ideas he had about revolutionizing nano-technology. Derek understood and was already thinking about making it a commercial revolution._  
_  
"Did you show Dad any of this?"_  
_  
"Yeah, but you know how he is. Always busy and worrying about the company's finances. He said it's 'too risky' and 'too experimental', and of course he won't let me show them to anyone else"_  
_  
Weak-minded fool. No wonder Mom left him._  
_  
"Don't worry, Trevor. One day your ideas __**will**__ change the world. I promise"_  
_  
"Thanks, little brother", Trevor, said a little patronizingly. "I'm sure you'll do great, too"_

********  
_  
"Yes, I know, we all miss him. He was the founder of this company and a great father. Powers Technology owes him a great debt. Thank you for your condolences, Mr. Stuart"_  
_  
Derek ended the conversation with relief. I swear, if I have to do this one more time…He consoled himself by checking out his desk. It wasn't large, but it did have the imprimatur, Derek Powers, CEO. Has a nice ring to it._  
_  
"Hey Derek, great news!", Trevor said as he burst through the door._  
_  
I'm going to have to put an end to sudden interruptions like this, Derek thought._  
_  
"What's going on, Trev?"_  
_  
"My patents have been approved! Finally!"_  
_  
"That's great news!"_  
_  
Which I knew months ago. Nothing pays like a good information network._  
_  
"Now Powers Technology can really take off! Dad would be proud!"_  
_  
"Yeah, I still wish he were here…but hey, you're also doing a good job. I hear you're negotiating to merge with Wayne Enterprises?"_  
_  
"And here I thought you were just a lab genius. Yes, I'm in negotiations as we speak for a merger. With our technology and his company's global distribution, we can be the greatest corporation since LexCorp"_  
_  
Trevor looked suspiciously,_  
_  
"You're not comparing yourself to Lex Luthor, are you? The guy who nearly wiped out the planet?!"_  
_  
"No, of course not," Derek said with a smooth tone, "But you can't deny that he had few peers as businessman and visionary. He practically built Metropolis from the ground up. I want to do the same for Gotham. We've suffered enough from the '09 Apocalypse. It's time to move on"_  
_  
"But isn't that what Wayne wants to do?", Trevor inquired._  
_  
"Wayne is like Dad, Trev. He's stuck in the past, to the old ways of doing business. He wouldn't even hear of a merger when I broached the subject to him. Kept talking about 'my family this' and my family that'"_  
_  
"But I thought you said you were in negotiations…"_  
_  
"I am – with the other stockholders. With the money coming in from your discoveries I'll be able to edge him out"_  
_  
Trevor looked increasingly afraid. Derek put his arm around him and showed him to a picture of the one known lovingly as "Gotham's Old Man"._  
_  
"Don't worry, Trev, I'll leave his name on the masthead. I did the same for Dad, didn't I? But it's time for move on – why should we let some stubborn old man slow us down? Remember when I said you can change the world? This is your chance. Don't give it up, now"_  
_  
"I…I guess so", Trevor said, looking at the framed picture of Bruce Wayne, the Elderly Prince of Gotham._  
_  
Derek smiled.  
_  
_It's only a matter of time, Bruce, and I've got far more than you…_


	7. Chapter 7

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

Part II: All in the Family

Chapter 3: Who We Are Underneath  
_  
"And allow me to introduce the man of the hour, Mr. Derek Powers!" _  
_  
Derek Powers rose from his seat and approached the podium to the sound of thunderous applause. The conference hall was packed with the civilian and governmental aristocracy of Gotham and fawning reporters. Only Bruce Wayne, the deposed Prince of Gotham, was nowhere to be seen. _  
_  
Too bad. Powers was more than ready to be magnanimous in victory. In his speech, anyway._  
_  
Derek was not one given lightly to overconfidence and childish exhilaration. You didn't get to a position like this without considering all the possible scenarios, all the ways things could go wrong. He'd learned that much from studying Luthor._  
_  
But today, those fears seemed irrelevant. He was about to be crowned the undisputed King of Gotham. His only serious rival was now wasting away in self-pity in his own tomb, helpless to stop the march of progress. The other members of the board would keep quiet as long as he made them money and didn't spill the beans on their various misdeeds. _  
_  
Flush with power and radiating dominance, Powers smiled for the cameras one last time._  
_  
His moment had finally arrived._

***

Frank Roland entered the empty conference room and started setting up the podium. The chairs were empty, but he could already see their faces: stern, probing, inscrutable. They were considering every word, waiting for the greenhorn Lieutenant to slip up and show just how much of a rookie he was. As he placed the badges on the table, he already heard the brass saying "I becha no-one signs up".

Frank banished the thought from his mind. He stationed Gramps' hat next to the badges. It was all for show, an amateur theater act. But then, so was being a cop. Anyone with a brain knows we can't be everywhere at once. Even Te…Batman can't. It's all about making yourself larger than life, of making a presence no-one can ignore.

How did ol' Gramps put it?

"You make them sure they know who's in charge. Who's got the badge and the guts to stand behind it. Most crooks are cowards, Frankie. They'll run if you chase them but if you show 'em your back, expect to start feelin' pain real soon. But if they know that you mean business, that you will **never**, **ever** let someone cross you without payin' for it, you'll get their respect. Even when you ain't around, they'll still be looking over their shoulder"

"and what about the whack jobs, Gramps? The guys who aren't afraid?"

"Well", he said exposing his Glock, "That's what these are for"

Well, I'll bet you never pulled the trigger on the wrong guy. Still, he was right. You put on a show, you keep your doubts to yourself and in the end you hope you're really as tough as you say you are. There isn't much more you can do.

The candidates for the SCU started filing into the conference room. Captain Martinez followed behind and took a seat in the front row.

Great. Between him and the Commissioner watching on the live feed, the strain was almost unbearable. He took a deep breath and began.

***  
_  
…_  
_  
"This company is changing, but it will always remember its roots. The Wayne name will remain on the masthead ahead of my own, to remind me and everyone working for me the debt we owe those who came before us. _  
_  
The contributions of the Wayne Foundation will not be forgotten. I have already pledged 100 million company credits to the Gotham Police fund to purchase new equipment – computers, arms and more. The days of a police force scrambling for cover while some lunatic in a batsuit serves as Gotham's only protector are over. _  
_  
Bruce Wayne built this company, gave it is name, its reputation. He, too, contributed to Gotham's well being and I pledge to continue his work. Wayne-Powers will lead the way in bringing Gotham city to new heights._  
_  
… _  
_  
Bruce Wayne built a company – I wish to build a city, one even Metropolis can't match. With your support, this will happen. Thank you"_  
_  
The reporter nearby talked for the camera as Powers greased the palms of the Mayor, Governor and Police Commissioner,_  
_  
"That was Derek Powers giving his acceptance speech to the stockholders as he finalized the takeover of Wayne Enterprises, now renamed Wayne-Powers. Politicians and local businessmen are enthusiastic about this change in leadership, saying Powers has the foresight and the skills to bring Gotham into a new Golden Age…"_

***

Roland eyed his audience wearily. The dark surroundings, set in what could only be described as Gotham's Hellmouth, didn't help matters. Hopelessness was a fact of life down in the Pit. But then, that was why he was here.

"Thank you for coming. I had a whole speech prepared" he said as he set aside his phone "but I was never much for prepared speeches anyway"

"You all know why you're here, though many of you are probably wondering why this unit even exists. Well, look around you. A GCPD badge may inspire confidence in a press conference or for a parade. Down here, it's not worth 5 creds. Frankly, I doubt most of the people on the upper levels think differently.

You all know my grandfather, Harvey Bullock. I hear they're even writing an approved biography as part of the Gotham bicentennial for this city's heroes. Well, Harvey was no saint. He stepped on quite a few toes in his day and broke quite a few rules. Sure, he did it for the "common good" while some of you did it for other reasons, but he was a troublemaker just the same. But he was also a damned good cop. I think you can be, too.

Gramps Harvey left me three things – a rumpled old hat, a trenchcoat five sizes too big and this" he said as he picked up an old, rusted badge "his gold shield. This meant everything to him. This is what separates us from the crooks – not our rifles, our flying gunships or our snazzy uniforms. We're here not just to protect the politicians and the big donors. Every citizen of Gotham should know that when we say we serve and protect, we mean every word. That we'll take the bullet, go the extra mile to protect the people who live in this city.

I've read through all of your files, I know everything about you since you entered the force – good and bad. So let me tell you a little something about me. I shot and killed an innocent man. The shoot was clean, but it's been haunting me ever since.

Because that man shouldn't have been there in the first place. He was there because he didn't trust the police. He didn't think we gave a damn, and I don't blame him. You all know how many major crime cases get abandoned or unreported every year because we'd rather buy shiny new gunships than hire detectives? 1,000. And that's just the official statistic – I don't even want to think what the real number is.

That's why we're here. This unit will cover everything no-one else will – the cold cases, the gang murders; the stuff that doesn't get reported in the press. We're fighting for the little guy. We're fighting for the badge. We're fighting for Gotham.

I've set up your badges on the table. Whether you pick them up or walk out empty-handed – it's your choice. If you decide not, you can pick up your transfer files by the front desk, no hard feelings.

If you do choose to join, understand this:

The SCU is a 24/7 commitment. If I call you up at 3 AM, that phone better be on. If I need a report or a witness investigated, it'd better be done right. You have three strikes. Screw up three times, and you're out - not just this unit but off the force. Succeed and you'll have a fast track up the ladder. What's more important – you'll have made the GCPD worth a damn again. You'll have given the badge the respect it deserves.

Thank you."

No-one clapped. They just sat there, pondering his offer.

One of them raised his hand,

"What about Batman?"

Roland froze. He knew the question would come eventually, just not so fast. He looked intently at his audience with the camera behind it. If he was going to have free reign, it had to be all the way.  
"Batman's doing what we do. He just wears a different kind of badge. Up until now, he's also been the only one. That's also why the SCU exists, so that no one man, no matter how good, has to carry the whole load. God help us all if the only thing that stands between Gotham's citizens and its criminals is one man – even if it's Batman. I know a lot of you don't like the idea of working with him, but it's my unit and we go by my rules."

He let that sink in for a few seconds and then barked,

"Anything else?"

They slowly got up and walked towards the table. Some of them walked out without a badge, some with. It wasn't a total success but it wasn't a total failure. It'll do.

Martinez approached the new commander after the room was vacated,

"Nice speech. Could have done without the Batman reference, though"

"Well, I…"

"Don't apologize, Frank", he said as he punched his shoulder, "you proved me wrong. You really sounded like a commander, not a greenhorn. I'll be watching you"

Captain Martinez left the room and Commissioner Barbara Gordon turned off the live feed, satisfied with her new appointee.

Outside, Batman turned off the recording device and restarted his patrol. As he flew back into the Batmobile, he pondered the Lieutenant's words.

A different kind of badge.

That's one way to look at it.

***  
_  
Derek Powers entered his office, finally ready after six months of renovation. Set at the top of the Wayne-Powers complex, it radiated dominance over the whole landscape. It's nice to be on top._ _Spotting a file marked "Trevor Powers", his face immediately soured._  
_  
"Your brother's been asking a lot of questions about the new security arrangements and our new R&D projects"_  
_  
Derek turned around to see his newly-hired security man, Mr. Fixx emerging from the shadows._  
_  
"Trevor's harmless. Just let him blow off some steam and he'll get back to normal, good as new"_  
_  
"He's also been talking to the police"_  
_  
Derek checked the file and sure enough there was his brother, talking to the Commissioner. He'd managed to find the one cop in the city who couldn't be bought off with shiny new equipment or political influence._  
_  
"Your orders, sir?"_  
_  
Derek tensed up. Why, Trevor? Why did you have to ruin it? You have everything you ever wanted – a lab with unlimited funds, tens of scientists at your command. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?_  
_  
He looked straight at Fixx._  
_  
"Take care of it"_  
_  
"As you wish"_  
_  
Derek put the file in the trash can and went back to enjoying the view. It's better enjoyed alone anyway. _


	8. Chapter 8

[I highly recommend reading the last section of this chapter while looking at this rendition: ?q=blig...et=24#/d4fk52p It perfectly captures what I consider to be his essence]

Volume 1: Honorable Manhood

PART II: All in the Family

Chapter 4: Devotion

Terry sweated from behind a wall. There were 5 heavily armed Jokerz on the other side. He had two batarangs and one smoke bomb left to deal with them. At least he'd already taken out the other thirty, he laughed desperately. Closing his eyes, he took out the smoke bomb and steeled himself.

Leaping out from behind the wall, he cleared through the smoke, detecting and disarming three of the Jokerz with his bare hands and taking out a fourth's gun with his batarang. The smoke cleared and there was the fifth guy, a little dazed from the smoke but still armed and ready to blow Terry away. Without missing a beat, Batman rolled on the ground and unleashed his batarang into his gun, a laser blast missing his ear by half an inch. Then he knocked him out. Standing tall and dominant among the fallen, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.

Terry turned off the virtual training console and checked the score on the Batcomputer screen: 98%. He smiled, satisfied at the score but swearing he'd do better next time. In the real world, he might have been dead. Can't afford to take chances like that again. Well, at least Matt's video game served some use, he thought as he placed the console in the chair.

He started going over all the latest crime reports and surveillance photos. The Jokerz were increasingly on the run, staying away from most of civilized Gotham and sticking to the Pit. Sure others would take their place eventually, but he had a window – a small one – to break them for good. As he saw the computer plan out possible routes of attack, he smiled. He would make good on the promise he'd made.

***

Dana stood silently in the space between the exhibits and the stairwell, watching Terry go about his routine. He was erect, focused and in complete control. He looked like a man at least twenty years more mature. If only Dad could see this Terry…

But the truth was even she still couldn't get used to it: was this the same Terry who could barely go two seconds without starting a fight? The kid who could barely pass classes even before he donned the costume? How did no-one, how did **she** not see this potential he had in him? Why did it take his father's murder and a haunted ex-vigilante to bring this out of him? What was even more maddening – why didn't **he** understand what he'd become?

Whatever the case, this much she knew: Bruce Wayne had given Terry a way forward, away from the abyss and into greatness. It was her job to keep it that way.

***

Terry continued to examine the crime map, looking for possible hot spots…

"I hope you don't plan on ditching me again"

Terry looked around, relieved and a little surprised to see Dana come out from the shadows.

"Hey", she said playfully, "you spend half a year with Batman, you learn a few tricks. It's not my fault you guys have such lousy security"

Terry smiled.

"I don't start going after the bozo brigades for another four hours. As for security"

Terry turned around and shut off the computer, then turned back towards her,

"I'd love to see the idiot dumb enough to take on Ace. We could put it on the World's funniest videos"

Dana hunched a little and gave a half-smile,

"Nice to see you got your sense of humor back"

"Who says I lost it?" he said, heading towards the change room in the back of the cave.

"Well, you certainly weren't so chipper during physical therapy"

Terry stopped, then half-looked back at Dana. The look betrayed both darkness and sadness,

"Getting shot will do that to you", he said and then went back on his way to the change room.

"Something tells it's **who** shot you" she said, half to herself.

Terry got out of his work clothes and into his "civilian" outfit. Finishing combing his hair, he came out,

"Dana, did you see…"

She stood there with his jacket on him.

"What? It's freezing in here"

"Dad would have said it builds character" he said ruefully, moving to repossess his coat.

Dana retreated,

"Uh uh, McGinnis, not till we leave. Besides, I got you something better"

She moved to her hiding place and returned with a large leather jacket almost as big as she was.

"It's time for an upgrade, Mr. McGinnis. Besides, the old one barely fits you" she said, admiring his ever improving physique.

Terry took the new coat and moved before the glass case containing his other uniform. He put it on and was stunned by what he saw. Dad was right – clothes really do make the man. He felt powerful, dominant, in control. He felt like he could do anything. Moving his gaze from the jacket to the outfit inside the case, it felt like he was looking **at** the cowl and not **up** to it. It scared and excited him at the same time.

"Well, what do you think?"

Terry faked a smirk,

"It's great. All I'm missing are shades and a sawed-off shotgun"

"McGinnis!", she said, hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding. It's great, thank you", he said as he pecked her on the cheek.

Dana motioned towards the stairs,

"Come on, let's get something to eat before you beat up half the Jokerz in town"

As they walked up, Terry got in one last jab,

"You make it sound like I enjoy doing that"

***  
_  
Trevor woke up, hoping to find himself in bed. A check of the manacles on his wrists reminded him otherwise. He felt the beard, the dirty clothes. The walls gave off a stench that was overpowering. His friends had always laughed at him for being a neat freak. Now he felt contaminated, violated. Except it wasn't the germs that were responsible. Even germs wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to make him suffer like this._  
_  
He heard the door of the cell open. By the sound of the shoes, he knew it was him. Trevor refused to turn his head._  
_  
"Hello, Trev"_  
_  
"What's the matter, you wanted to look me in the eye before you had your thug bash my head in?", he said through clenched teeth._  
_  
"You did this to yourself, Trev", Derek sneered, "you could have had everything – money, fame, the largest lab on the eastern seaboard. You threw it all away for what – some misplaced sense of justice?"_  
_  
"You lied to me. You said we were going to rebuild Gotham, that we would make Dad proud"_  
_  
"But I did do all that. Wayne-Powers is a hundred times more powerful than Dad's pathetic little setup. When I took over, Gotham City was a 20__th__ century backwater. Now it's competing with Metropolis"_  
_  
"Was that why you blackmailed all the major stockholders to give up control of Wayne Enterprises? Why you turned the security team into your own little hit squad? Why you've been making arms deals with murderers?"_  
_  
Derek laughed,_  
_  
"Did the commissioner tell you that? If she had any proof, I'd be in a cell, not you"_  
_  
"I saw the files. I was copying them when your personal pit bull knocked me out"_  
_  
Trevor turned towards Derek, his eyes filled with pain and hatred,_  
_  
"Dad was a good man. Maybe he wasn't always there for us, but he wouldn't have sold his soul to the devil"_  
_  
The unshackled man sneered,_  
_  
"Dad was a pathetic weakling and so are you. Mom walked out on him, his friends ignored him and he never made more than a pittance. He never understood the truth about power – you don't earn it, you just take it"_  
_  
"Bruce Wayne didn't…"_  
_  
"Wayne inherited his power. He never did anything to earn it. You should have seen the kind of parties he used to host before he became a decrepit invalid"_  
_  
Trevor didn't move his gaze from Derek, but he started breathing more heavily, like a cornered animal desperate to defeat his tormentor. The man in power now moved towards his brother,_  
_  
"It's a shame I have to do this. But my city has no place for people like you"_  
_  
Suddenly, Trevor jumped out and grabbed his brother, slamming him against the wall. Derek easily forced him back onto the bed and placed his hands around his throat. The shackled man looked in disbelief. After all his bluster, he still couldn't believe it. A few minutes of struggling and it was over. Derek removed his hands from his brother and washed them off._  
_  
"Dispense of his body" he order Mr. Fixx, who was standing outside the cell. _  
_  
"I'm on it"_  
_  
Derek looked at his now clean hands, still shaking. But it wasn't from horror of murder. It was the thrill of the power of taking a life. He clenched them and enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body._ _Forget buildings and money, __**this**__ was real power._  
_  
Suddenly, he remembered everything – the nerve gas, Batman, the submarine, the betrayal. He welcomed all the memories, burning through them like a great fire. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, of meaning. It was time to come back._

***

Derek Powers opened his eyes. He saw his secretary and a doctor a few feet away from him. He was in some kind of high-tech medical room. Lifting his hand, he was momentarily confused. It was human skin. Had he been dreaming this whole time? Even his "memories"? He tried to activate the radiation energy and sure enough, it burned through his shield. But when he lowered the flame, the skin grew back almost instantly. He smiled. Regenerative bionanotech skin. The months-long treatment he would have gotten if Paxton hadn't stabbed him in the back…Paxton…

He sat up and looked in the mirror of the door in front of him. Without looking at her, he asked,

"Where's Paxton?"

"We'll talk about that lat…"

"Where?", he demanded, his green eyes of radiation hellfire now focusing on her.

Sara mustered up the courage to tell the truth, hoping she wouldn't be incinerated for it,

"He's in prison for trying to kill Wayne…"

She stopped and stood there. Derek became impatient.

"You're hiding something from me. Don't"

"Paxton sold off his stock to pay for his defense, Wayne bought it from the buyers. He owns the company again"

Derek's rage increased and his entire face melted off, revealing the one underneath. Sara froze in terror at the sight. In place of the green eyes, there was emptiness, a black, endless pit ready to devour all before it.

Derek looked bemused at his secretary's response and then looked back at the glass in the door. He understood and smiled. This was who he truly was, what he always wanted to be – released of all pretense. No more worrying about money or reputation or buildings. He felt the rush again, the joy that came from having power over life itself.

Derek was just a name now.

Blight was the reality.

Time to embrace it.

END: PART II: All in the Family


	9. Chapter 9

[You know what would be awesome? A Breaking Bad-esque alternate version of Terry's origin story where Warren miraculously survives but starts to descend into Heisenberg-like villiany. Terry gets caught in the middle of Warren and Bruce and Powers serves as more of a Gus than a Luthor. Plenty of opportunities for multiple character torture. SilverKnight, if you're ever short of ideas...

In any event, get ready, folks. It's going to get very...interesting from here on in . aiwac]

PART III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 1: Bleak House

The house was almost completely silent. The only sound the owner could hear was the beating of his own heart, increasing in tempo as he watched the intruder act as if he owned the place. All the more galling was that right now – he did. His heart beat faster, furious at the feeling of violation.

The owner eyed the paintings and furniture, barely visible in the dim moonlight; the accumulated family possessions of over a century. He had maintained them with pride and dedication; it was all he had left from them. Now they were nothing more than rich, plump targets for the intruder. The entire house felt like a giant, dead tomb filled with meaningless trinkets. This was all he had, his entire legacy. And it was going to burn.

What galled even more was the identity of the arsonist. The owner had had many enemies - some of them mortal, others supernatural. But even the most depraved, psychotic, the most **evil** of them had a kind of professional respect for him. Only a few had dared violate his house, and even that was out of hatred for how he'd stopped them or interfered in their plans.

But this intruder was different. He had nothing but contempt but for the owner, seeing in him a useless relic from a bygone age, a reminder of the impotence of his own flesh and blood. He could see it not only in the intruder's eyes but in his actions.

The invader was leaving him alive, not out of mercy or honor, but cruelty. Just like twenty years ago, the message was unspoken yet could be heard loud and clear:

I'm going to destroy everything you've worked for, everything you've ever built – and I'm going to make you watch…

***  
_  
Seven Months Ago_

Roland stood with his team and waited for the uniforms and CSI crew. He checked his watch. Half an hour late. If they didn't show up again, he was going to report to Gordon. Or resign. Whichever one felt better at the moment.

Finally, he saw the headlights and the boys in white and blue. He thought of complaining but then thought better of it. At least they came.

"Allright, knock it down and sweep the building"

The uniforms obeyed, punching out the door and securing the crime scene.

"Allright, move in"

Roland followed the crew as they looked for the burial site. Hard to believe this was a crime scene. Roland could still remember Old Gramps Harvey showing him where they make the chocolate bars…

"Found it!", cried a CSI.

"Good, how many we looking at?"

"See for yourself, Lieutenant"

Roland moved to the gutter and his eyes opened wide. There must be dozens of bodies…He quickly moved to a corner and emptied his lunch.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant, never been at a crime scene before? Thought you were the hero of the Northside Butcher case…"

Running a unit with mavericks and troublemakers required swallowing a lot of pride. But not this time,

"Watch your mouth, **Detective** Anderson, or I'll have you back on patrol here – **on foot**. Besides" he said as he cleared his mouth, "This isn't about dead bodies. It's **these** dead bodies. How long have they been here? A year? Two?"

"Way I see it, no harm in gang bangers killing each other"

Roland locked eyes with the wayward detective,

"**One**, we serve and protect everyone, not just the people we like. **Two**, any gang capable of this can kill innocent civilians, too. Remember the Summer of '41? Oh, and one more thing" He said as he approached Anderson "Get that stupid toothpick out of your mouth"

"Come on, Lieutenant, it's a trademark, like Kojack's candy or Columbo's trench coat. You know, kind of like Old Man Harvey…"

Roland grabbed the toothpick and threw it down the gutter,

"When you put away as many people as Gramps Harvey, you can have a trademark. But you've got to earn the right"

"OK, OK", Anderson said as he started reviewing the evidence from the electronic scans,

"Lieutenant, you do realize that even if we find out the gangs responsible for this and the other body dump sites, we'll still need to catch them"

"You worry about the crime scenes, I'll worry about catching them"

Which meant Batman, the unofficial member of his team. Roland wondered about the kid.

He hoped he was having a better time than they were.

***

Terry stood in his old bedroom, now bereft of any evidence that human beings lived there. He could still imagine all the clothes piled up, Dad screaming at the top of his lungs that it needed to be cleaned up. Right before Terry would slam the door and wish he'd leave him alone. God, he even missed their fights.

"Checked the place from top to bottom. No sign of anything, sir", she said in a mock official tone.  
Terry looked around and saw Dana in the hallway.

"I know, I swept it with every gadget in existence…Thanks for coming, Dana"

"Hey, no problem. So…the new people move in tomorrow?"

"Yup, tomorrow this will officially be someone else's home"

Dana could sense a small twinge of sorrow in Terry's eyes,

"Does that bother you?"

Terry shook it off,

"I have what I need from Dad – pictures, memories, what's left of the family. He didn't leave a will but I'm pretty sure he didn't want me to turn this place into some kind of shrine. With the money we made from this sale, Mom and Matt will be financially set. He'd have wanted it that way"

Dana wouldn't let him dodge the issue,

"There's something else…"

Terry's brow creased and he sighed,

"I just feel that all he ever saw was Terry the screw-up, the kid who failed tests even when he showed up to them. I wish he could see me now; he would be proud. Whenever I ace one of Bruce's e-courses, I get the urge to run and go tell Dad and show off what I could do, and then I remember…"

Terry held Dana's hand tightly and they looked fondly at each other.

"Hey, I think the most important thing is that you're happy. I think he'd have wanted that, too"

"Yeah…allright, let's get out of here before I turn all misty-eyed. Batman has a reputation to keep, you know" he said with a half-cocky grin.

As they walked out the front door, Terry took one last look back. The scene from his Dad's death, the shock of discovery flashed before him. He erased it from his mind. It was finally time to put Dad's memory to rest.

He closed the door slowly. The shadow covered everything in the apartment and the final click sealed the deal.

As he walked away, he refused to look back, knowing that now he could move on.

***

He ran desperately from his tormentor, dim moonlight providing his only guide. So much sweat ran down his face that his gang makeup was now on his clothes. He tried one door. C'mon, he thought as he pulled with all his strength. No good.

He could hear the predator closing in, walking slowly and savoring his success. He ran further to the window, maybe he could jimmy it with the crowbar nearby. He picked up the burglar's device and pulled as hard as he could.

"Come on"

The steps grew louder.

"Come on, come on, please"

I'll never break into another house. I'll leave the gangs. Please, Slag it, just open up. Please…

He dropped the useless tool. It was then he realized that his sweat had morphed into tears.

Of regret, of terror? He didn't know.

It didn't matter. His mask was completely removed.

The light turned on, and the predator grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The chase was over. He could see the fate of his friends, splattered all over the floor like a wild animal had caught them.

"Y…you know who I am? You think the 'Mad Dog' was dangerous? They call me 'El Diablo"! That means 'The Devil'!"

The predator laughed. Rolling back his mask and reshaping his hand, he showed him the true meaning of Evil:

"Actually…"

His hand moved closer and closer, and the predator reveled in his victim's hyperventilation and sweat. Please…No…

"…you're practice"


	10. Chapter 10

Vol. 1: Honorable Manhood

PART III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 2: The Animal Kingdom

Batman finished his patrol of neo-Gotham and began his descent for the Pit. Accessing the Batcomputer by remote, he checked his surveillance equipment for any activity. One spot in particular screamed "unusual". A whole Jokerz gang was spread out over an alley. There was also something familiar on one of the walls...

He exited the vehicle, alerted the SCU and inspected the crime scene. Then he looked up at the signal. It was his tag, alright. Funny, I don't remember hitting this alley recently. Batman took a closer look at the red painted badge and noticed that it didn't look quite right…A police car containing the SCU commander, his protégé Det. Andersen and two uniforms arrived at the scene. An ambulance came in tow.

"This wasn't me"

"I know. You're a better artist than this. But it looks like you have a devoted fan"

Terry grimaced.

"I wish they'd stick to dressing up at tourist conventions and making amateur musicals with stupid jokes"

Detective Andersen went red.

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm part of the Police amateur theater. Batman: the Musical's my favorite!"

A quick glower from Roland got him to back down. Holding his hands up in defense, he tried to be conciliatory,

"OK, OK. But surely you could use the help. Even **you** can't cover every inch of this cesspool"

Batman turned toward the wounded Jokerz being picked up by the medics.

"This is help I don't need. Whoever did this was an amateur, a dangerous one. See the markings all over the walls? Those are all the times he missed his mark. Even so, these clowns are lucky to be alive. I had to revive two of them with my equipment. This guy needs to be stopped before either he or someone else gets killed"

"Aw, c'mon. Maybe you could train him, you know, like Rob…"

Terry sent him a glare that could cut through Superman himself. Andersen took the hint.

Roland spoke instead,

"Well, he couldn't have been using any kind of gun. I've never seen marks like this"

"That's because he **was** the weapon"

Roland and Andersen looked quizzically at the detective.

"There are blood samples all over the clowns here that don't belong to them. They're full of splicing chemicals and enzymes"

"Someone we know?"

"Doubt it. Most splicers mix DNA with one or two animals at most. Anyone who tries to do more usually ends up turning into one disgusting mess of goo. Which means our suspect is either extremely lucky or **will **be extremely dead soon. I'll know more when I run the results"

"As important as that is, we've got something else that's a lot more pressing. Andersen, give him the info"

Andersen handed Batman a small chip and explained,

"I'm sure you know that lots of Jokerz members have gone missing over the years. Kids who were too weak or wanted to quit, maybe even talk to the cops. Everyone suspected foul play, of course, but it was…well, low on the department priority list between super-villains and big time crooks. Ever since the SCU's been up and running, we've been uncovering dumping sites left and right…"

"Get to the point"

"After we identified the bodies, we cross-checked them with known "friends" on closed social media, fan clubs. They're all on that chip"  
Roland now took over the briefing,

"We know who they are, but we don't know where they are. Even if we did, we don't have anywhere near the manpower down here to launch a sweep. Captain Martinez has a hard enough time even maintaining a presence down here.

That's where you come in. We've heard about your divebombs into Jokerz territory. We figured you'd be able to help us"

Batman narrowed his eyes. Roland's heart was in the right place, but this was a lot to ask for. The numbers ran in the dozens.  
The Commander of the SCU tried to sweeten the deal,

"Look, I wouldn't normally ask something like this, but the SCU doesn't have enough pull yet to call in reinforcements. A sweep like this could do the trick. We're talking about most of the hard-core troublemakers and psychopaths of the biggest gang organizations in Gotham. Do this, and you won't just put these monsters in jail for life or on the chair, but we'll finally be able to watch **your** back when the time comes"

Terry hesitated a moment and then started moving back towards the Batmobile.

"So we have a deal?"

"We'll be in touch"

As the Batmobile flew off, Andersen asked,

"Would it kill him to just once say 'bye'?"

Roland ignored his subordinate and looked to the sky. He hoped he'd never have to make such a request again. The kid was worth more than this.

***

Terry entered the Batcave and checked the computer screen. The display was clear:  
_  
1% DNA defragmentation done. In progress_

Slag it, at this rate it'll take weeks. Well, at least it was only weeks and not years. Considering how much his "fan" had screwed around with his DNA, it was a miracle it was even possible to find him out. Whoever did this was going to regret using his name…

To other business. Terry opened his "gang map". Thousands of hours of surveillance by e-bats gave him a pretty reliable map of Jokerz and rival gangs' territory. All clearly marked on the map in flashing green, read and assorted colored dots. Touch a dot and all the names came up.

So. Lieutenant Roland knows who they are. I know where they are. But that still didn't solve the problem of how to get them into the hands of the SCU. Hit one hideout and the rest of them would all be on alert. Besides, this was a hell of a lot of risk to capture a bunch of dregs. Not that he was risk-averse, but he knew he wasn't invincible. Dad always said – never take unnecessary risks. Granted it was in a different context entirely, but the advice still held true.

Terry tried to crash on the chair and clear his head. He nearly tripped over and crashed onto the cold, rocky floor. Slag it, Bruce must have adjusted the controls again. One of these days, Terry grumbled to himself as he readjusted the chair, one of these d…  
_  
Incoming Call…ID: BATMAN_

Terry answered.

"How are things going?"

"Fine, if you'd just stop adjusting the chair and making me almost break my neck"

"It's Batman's chair, Terry"

Terry wasn't sure that meant the chair was shared or Bruce's alone. Either way, he wasn't amused. Bruce continued,

"Besides, I installed a remote adjuster last week that's accessible from your suit. If you'd paid attention, you could have spared yourself the pain"

"Thanks for the tip" Terry growled.

Maybe someday I'll return the favor, Terry thought. Then something clicked, a piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Terry, you there?"

Terry laughed to himself, remembering who'd designed the mechanism he was going to use to trap the Jokerz suspects.

"Terry?"

"I'm fine. I just figured out an important piece of a case"

"Good. Is there anything else? I'm kind of busy"

You were the one who called me.

"Yeah. We've got ourselves a spliced-up Batman copycat. A pretty wild one. DNA analysis on him or her…or it will take a while"

Bruce muted the call, sighed deeply and renewed the conversation,

"Hazard of the job. Ran into a few of those in my time"

"I know, I've read your files. Twice"

The last word was said with a hint of sadness. Bruce was curious,

"There a problem?"

"It's just…this isn't the kind of stuff I wanted to inspire in people"

"What did you want to inspire?"

"I don't know…I guess I never really thought about it"

"Now might be a good time to start. In my experience, violence alone doesn't deter people like this, people who think they're helping", Bruce scolded.

"I know, I know"

"I hope you do. This person's life is in your hands"

"Anything else? I'm kind of busy"

"That'll be all. Remember to adjust the chair when you get off it. Batman out"

Terry fumed at the screen for a few seconds and then relented. He had better things to do, like thinking of a good delivery system. His surveillance bats wouldn't do - great for scaring, lousy for stealth. It had to be something small, something that would fit right into the pit…

Thinking for a bit, he gazed downward. The creepy-crawly creatures of the earth traversed the surface of the cave, ignoring its Master. Pointing at them and widening his eyes, a broad smile emerged on his face.

The final piece was of the puzzle was found.  
_  
33% DNA defragmentation done. In progress..._

Nozer sat on the sidelines of the party. A broken shell of a kid, he was possessed of a constant, paralyzing fear. A fear that HE would come again, and this time he would let him drop off the ledge. His friend Bozon tried to get him to join the circle,

"Hey, Nozer, stop looking up! We checked the roof like ten times! Come on, enjoy the party"

Nozer didn't look satisfied, so his gang mate pushed harder,

"C'mon, we've got all the bikes ready nearby to go in case of an emergency. There are lookouts at every hideout"

Nozer looked down at the bugs crawling out of a sewer pipe, fearing that they too might be part of His plan. Bozon sneered,

"Those are just bugs, moron. Here, let me prove it to you", he said as he stomped on a number of the insects.

"Here" he said showing him the bottom of his shoe, "these look like ordinary bugs to me"

Maybe it was exhaustion or relief, or both, but Nozer agreed to join the party. Maybe he really wouldn't strike. At least not tonight.

***

The nanotech bugs crawled among their biological cousins and reached the motorcycles nearby. In selected Jokerz hideouts throughout the pit, they latched onto the escape vehicles and sent the signal to their master. He waited for confirmation from all his minions atop one of the ruined buildings. They were all in place.

It was time to show these clowns who really runs this circus.

He activated the remote.

***

Nozer was dancing with a moderately cute Jokerz girl and started to lose himself in the music. Suddenly, it started again. The bats descended like a plague of locusts, screeching their terrifying cry of battle. Nozer didn't think twice and ran to his bike, hoping to escape the hell. Even He couldn't catch so many of them, at least when they were mobile.

He and his friends went as fast as they could through the winding streets and sewers, aiming to stay on the move until the Bat gave up. At 50 MPH, he felt strangely safe, secure. He sighed for relief.

All of a sudden, the bikes started to yank in a different direction. He tried to turn the bike but it wouldn't stray. He tried shutting it off and even hit the central controls several times, begging it to release him,

"Come on. Come on. COME ON!"

A sign showed up on the display saying "CONTROLS LOCKED". Then they were replaced by the red sign, that horrible glowing badge he remembered from that night. He looked at it in terror,

"No, no, not this. Not again. Not again."

A captive of his own speed, he and his friend now had a choice between guaranteed death and possible death. He looked around for support only to see all of them cling to their out-of-control bikes for dear life. Hyperventilating, he held on to the bike, hoping to God he wasn't being driven to his death. His life now depended on the man who he once and still thought capable of mass murder.

If he got out of this alive, he was leaving the Jokerz for good. This was no fun at all.

***

Lt. Roland and his team waited with most of the uniformed officers and snipers at the assigned position covering a giant open square with no cover from fire. Detective Andersen looked at the time,

"You sure he'll show?"

"He'll show"

"With all our suspects? Come on, I'm a fan of his and even I don't think he can pull something this big off"

"He can pull it off in his sleep, Detective"

Five minutes later motorcycles came roaring into the _cul de sac_, continuing to drive and eventually slowing down to a halt. There were over two hundred in all. Under normal circumstances, they'd make a run or even a fight for it. But even they saw that to do so was suicide. Their hands went up without a word.

Lt. Roland followed the uniforms to booking. He smirked back at Detective Andersen, whose jaw remained wide open.

Damn, he's good.  
_  
66% DNA defragmentation done. In progress…_  
_  
"Gotham Police forces continue to make gang-related arrests in what experts are calling the biggest police sweep since the Summer of '41. Lieutenant Frank Roland, Commander of the SCU in charge of the operation declined to comment on whether or not the vigilante Batman had assisted in capturing many of the elusive criminals. Meanwhile, District Attorney Sam Young has promised to everything he can to ensure that justice is served…"_

Blight remained still in his meditation position. He felt at ease with the world - calm, collected and in control. The news brought a smile to his face. They think they're winning, but all they're giving me is an opportunity. He turned on the com-link to her by remote and started the call,

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sending you a list of things I need you to do as soon as possible"

"Right away, Mr. Po…Blight"

"Please", he said in his most charming voice possible, "you can still call me by my old name"

"Yes, Mr. Powers"

"I have faith in you, Sara. Don't disappoint me"

The combination of pseudo-warmth and menace unnerved her. She could almost swear she heard him mumble the word "again" under his breath. But this was also the first time he had ever referred to her by name. Her heart beat ever faster.

"It'll be done, sir. I promise"

Derek shut off the news feed and went back to his meditation.

Soon, the reckoning will begin.  
_  
99% DNA defragmentation done. In progress…_  
_  
DNA Defragmentation complete. _  
_  
List of possible matches based on previously inserted criteria:_

- _Restrict to: residents of Gotham Metropolitan area_  
_  
Restrict to:_

- _Victims of violent crime OR_  
- _Fan of Batman social networks and/or forums AND_  
- _Access to resources over 10,000 credits for underground splicing services_  
_  
Search:_  
- _Gotham City DNA crime database_  
- _Gotham City Hospital Databases_  
_  
Compiling…_

_Most likely match (90%):_  
_  
Fred Watkins AKA "Mr. Lucky"_

_Matches of 85% and below [ZIP file]_  
_  
End search_


	11. Chapter 11

[Apologies for the delay. Life and work obligations and all that. So...what would YOU say? - aiwac]

Vol. 1: Honorable Manhood

PART III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 3: Stars Crossed  
_  
Earlier_

"Mr. Lucky" stood at the crossroads of dark and light. Between submitting to the Jokerz and bringing himself under the Dark Knight's protection. Thinking long and hard, he decided he hated both options. No matter what he did, he was still helpless. He would still be completely dependent on someone else. He hated the feeling.

All the anger, all the humiliation that he'd almost completely repressed his whole life bubbled forth. He clenched his fists wishing he could just go to the Jokerz' corner and bash some heads and show Batman he didn't need protection. That he didn't need someone else to look after him. He looked at the projector and silently muttered to himself,

"Never again"

He quickly turned left and kept walking until he entered Splicers' territory. At least, that's what everyone kept saying it was. The streets were curiously silent. The air was so foul, it was almost impossible to breathe. He was usually in and out of the Pit so fast he barely noticed. No wonder only criminals, cops and costumed freaks frequented this part of the city. Civilization left here a long time ago.

He was still walking when a large, bearded man approached him. Part of the man's hand looked more like a claw.

"You lost, pal?"

Watkins took a deep breath and mustered up as much courage as he could,

"No. I'm looking to make a transaction"

The bearded man looked puzzled. Then he laughed,

"A what?! This isn't a bank, old man"

"I'm not looking to make money. I'd like to buy some splicing genes"

The bearded man stopped laughing and narrowed his gaze.

"You don't seem the type"

Watkins ignored the insult and took the chip out of his briefcase,

"How much will this get me?"

The bearded man ran it through the scanner and his eyes popped open. He smiled as friendly-like as possible,

"This will get you **very** far. Stand still for a second"

The bearded man took out a device and scanned Watkins from head to toe. Satisfied with the examination, he gave him instructions,

"Go straight until you see a lamppost. Then go inside and go to the third door on the left. Knock three times. Tell the guy at the door that Merlin sent you. You give them the chip and they'll give you what you want. Got all that?"

Watkins took the chip and nervously put it back in the briefcase.

"I understand. Pleasure doing business with you"

Watkins extended his hand. The bearded man, not used to such courtesy, returned the favor.

"Yeah, sure, you too. Now get out of here. Spy bats'll be making their rounds any second now."

Watkins started running to the building.

"WALK! You run, we're both in jail"

"Right, right. Sorry"

He made it to the door. Whatever second thoughts he had were driven from his mind. There was no turning back.

He started knocking.

***

The knocking went on for five minutes straight. Slowly but surely his resistance broke down until it collapsed.

"Allright, allright, I'm coming! Just a minute!"

He hurriedly put on some sweats and shoes. He muttered under his breath,

"Slag it! It better not be some damned salesman"

He opened the door to reveal a guy about his own age in a repair uniform - hat, ID and all.

"Hey, I'm here about the washing machine?"

"Friggin' finally! Dad's been calling you guys for weeks about this! Take a right, you'll find it soon enough"

"Your Dad here?"

The resident was already back at his regular activities in front of a screen.

"Hello?"

The resident looked up, annoyed and even more annoyed to only see the guy's back.

"He's on some kind of a business trip. He left me cash chips. You'll get paid"

The repairman smiled slightly, "It's fine"

On his way to the washroom, the repairman found the master bedroom. The closet had been completely emptied out, but all the financial documents were still there. So was the computer and the phone. Strange behavior for a man going on a business trip. Anyway, on to the washing machine.

The device was simple enough. The repairman carefully opened it up.

Whoah.

Someone had tried his hand an amateur repair job, almost destroying the machine itself. Emphasis on almost. Looked really recent, too, given the more faded and less clumsy repair jobs that had clearly been done in years past. There were also traces of what smelled like sewer water near the machine and the linen closet. Who the hell tried to fix this, Swamp Thing?

He sighed and got out his tools. After a brief study of the original design, he carefully took apart and reassembled the machine, improving and fine-tuning some of the parts which suffered such carnage. He then put it back together, good as new.

He was about to leave when the resident of the house spoke up,

"Hey, you forgot your money!"

"Keep it. Like you said, your Dad's been calling us for weeks. This one's on us"

"Oh…OK"

The kid went back to playing video games, not sure what to make of the stranger's generosity.

The repairman removed his uniform in an alley and packed it in his already overstuffed toolbag. He got on the motorcycle and put on his helmet. Right on cue, the phone rang,

"You're quite the repairman"

Terry smiled with pride,

"Well, between Batmobile maintenance and the other repair jobs you have me do around the house, washing machines are a cinch"

"Maybe I really should make you do other odd jobs. They seem to do you good"

"Maybe you should pay me more"

Bruce cracked a slight smile.

"Touché. What did you find out?"

"He's definitely gone underground and quickly. Took all his clothes but not his electronics, I'm guessing so no-one could track him. There were traces of sewer water near the machine so I'm guessing he's been spending some quality time in the Pit. The sample I took places him on the East waterfront between Washington and Hill, but that's still a twenty-block grid"

"I'd check the old tenement buildings near the end of Lincoln boulevard. Easiest place to hide"

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother", Terry said when he reached a red light.

"You'd have gotten there…eventually", Bruce said with a slight smirk, "Remember, the secret is to always dig deeper, always question. So, you have any plan for when you find him?"

"I'm hoping it'll come to me in a moment of inspiration"

Bruce grimaced. Anticipating his partner's reply, Terry tried to assuage him,

"Then again, maybe I'll keep looking for a solution…Anyway, we need to end this conversation; I'm almost at the carnival"

"Have fun", Bruce said.

Terry's eyes opened wide. He barely missed one of the trees at the edge of the park, he was so in shock. Parking his motorcycle and dismounting, he looked towards the rows of tents. He smiled.

Well, if even Bruce wants me to enjoy myself…

***

Paxton Powers sat in the prison yard, staring blankly at the wall and ignoring the others enjoying themselves. His posture slouched and shifty eyes sunken, he resembled nothing so much as a once-dangerous animal who had suffered one too many blows. He looked resigned to being caged.

"Thinking about being on the other side?"

Paxton looked back to see his old buddy, Jake. God, one year in this place and already thinking about it liked he's been here all his life.

"No. There's nothing out there for me. I'm broke and unemployable. Judge did me a favor when he threw the book at me"

"Hey, cheer up. You'll find somethi…"

A large group of Jokerz passed by, like a pack of particularly angry wolves. They kept their silence until the wolves passed.

"A lot of newcomers lately. Can't say I enjoy the company", Jake opined.

"Thank Batman for that", Paxton sneered, "If he keeps it up, we'll be the only two normal people left in this circus"

"Hey, at least you still have your sense of humor", Jake said, giving Paxton a friendly pat on the back.

Paxton looked at Jake with something approaching pity. Sure, he'd stolen a thing or two. But he was basically a good guy. He wasn't a hunter like him.  
Another non-Jokerz prisoner approached the duo.

"Paxton Powers?"

"What do you want?"

The prisoner looked at the groupings of Jokerz nervously then looked back at him.

"Someone wanted me to tell you that you got a package today "

"Who told you? What sort of package?"

"Damned if I know. A fishing rod, apparently. It's with the rest of your stuff. You'll get it when you get out"

"See? Now you've got something to look forward to. I hear Wolf River's great for fishing in the summer", Jake said with a smile.

A fishing rod? Who would…No. It can't be.

Upon realizing his benefactor, his heart sank and a palpable fear came over him. His breathing increased to fever pitch. He looked around and saw only potential predators, any of which could have been sent by the invisible one. He was now a caged animal about to be devoured.

Paxton ran to the guard post but the signal had already been given. Within seconds, he was overcome by the newcomers a few feet from the post. They threw him to the ground and stabbed him repeatedly. Lying on the ground and bleeding profusely, he lived just long enough to see Jake suffer the same fate. No loose ends.

In his last moments, he couldn't but help to realize that in the end, He was truly the greater predator.

***

Fred Watkins practiced for hours in the dank building, constantly rehearsing forming and changing shape. Thank God he could do this in privacy. To be caught being constantly naked during shifting practice would have been terribly embarrassing. He knocked down part of the roof and retreated in terror with one of his swings. Even after all this, he was still scared.

Finally, he decided to act. The only way to overcome one's fear…

He walked through the alleyways, always being careful not to be seen. It was hard to follow the paper map and he got lost several times. But asking for directions down here was unacceptable. After a few hours, he felt like calling it quits. Then, he found them.

The Jokerz who'd tormented him for so long stood around, not particularly concerned about anything. They walked and acted like they owned the alley. Fear now gave way to something else, something he'd suppressed for so long. His breathing became more intense, his eyes flared. It was as if he could destroy them with his gaze alone, he would do it in an instant. But he had made a vow to his protector that he would not dishonor him.

Out of nowhere, a spliced beast came roaring, shrieking and barking at the Jokerz gang.

"What the…?", they all said.

The abomination swung wildly, missing as often as he hit. The Jokerz were too paralyzed by fear to run. They just stood there, swinging wildly with anything they could get their hands on. One tried a tire iron, another a spiked rubber chicken. Nothing worked. The beast would have his kill today.

In the end, he stood victorious over his tormentors. Seeing them all prostrate and helpless, his anger and exhilaration led him to let out a primal scream of rage. His fists and teeth clenched, he continued to growl under his breath. He closed his eyes and let the rush run through his whole body. So this is what real power feels like.

The beast then took one of the Jokers spray bottles and hastily drew the signal. It was meant for Him more than anyone else, his answer to the Batman's challenge a few weeks before.

You don't have to protect me anymore.

***

He picked up the batarang, concentrated and hoped that the third time would be a charm. Lifting it over his shoulder, he let the missile fly. It hit the wall.

"Aww…" he said as he hung his head.

Terry paid the worker for another three rounds.

"Here, let me try"

Lifting the plastic device, he threw it at a miniature Inque and knocked her down. Then Shriek. Finally, he knocked down Blight. If only it were this easy in real life…

Terry gave the large plush prize to his younger brother, who still looked crestfallen. The giftbearer tussled his hair a bit,

"Hey, you'll get it…eventually", Terry said with a somewhat sarcastic look. Matt sniffed,

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

Without missing a beat, Terry replied,

"You could say that. When I was your age, I did lots of crazy sports stuff"

"Yeah, right before you went to Juvie", he shot back.

Terry's eyes narrowed and the youth understood that he had crossed the line.

"Well, I'm going to beat you, you'll see! I'll get five in a row!"

Terry handed him a large amount of credits –

"Go for it. Remember, it's all in the wrist", he said as he made a flinging motion.

"Yeah, yeah", Matt said, impatient to win the not-so-subtle competition.

Terry backed off, letting him hone his skills. A voice came from behind,

"Don't let him fool you. He really thinks the world of you"

Terry turned around and took the beverage from his Mother's arm. After taking a sip, he said,

"He sure hides it very well"

"So did you when you were his age. Listen, Terry, I hate to ask but did you do the test?"

He looked down, searching for an excuse and failing. But he had a backup plan.

"Look, Mom, before you say anything, I have something to show you"

"Terry…"

He held up his hand in a delaying gesture, turned on his phone and showed her the results of some of the e-courses he'd been taking, the ones which he could let her see. Her eyes opened wide.

"I haven't had time for small stuff. Bruce has been working me to death with these advanced courses"

She looked quizzically,

"But I thought that you just did regular chores for him…"

He shrugged his shoulders,

"Yeah, sure, in the beginning, but now that he runs the company full-time, he needs someone to help him there. That means understanding what goes on at Wayne Enterprises. Hence the courses"

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I don't know. I've been very busy. Also, lots of this has to do with corporate secrets so I wasn't sure whether Bruce would be happy with me telling you…"

Mary looked at her son, her eyes filled with pride. It was a sight Terry never remembered seeing in his life. It was worth coming close to compromising his secrets for this.

She hugged him tightly. "I'm so proud of you…"

"You don't have to worry about me, Mom"

As he closed his eyes, a memory returned.  
_  
"Yeah, I'll be a big success. Just. Like. You"_  
_  
His father stood in the room, dejected. The look on his face was unmistakable. Terry could now tell exactly what he was thinking – this is what my son thinks of me, how he will remember me. If he knew the truth, he'd probably add coward to the list._

His eyes opened. The moment had come.

***

He traversed the mean streets of the Pit, less to hunt and more to hide. Like a special forces commando, he ran quietly and carefully from garbage bin to unlit corner, always looking in all directions to make sure he wasn't seen. The stench was bad and the air foul, but by now, he was used to it.

It was finally all quiet. He took out his hand and looked at it in horror. It was a horrific mash of colors and shapes, and no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't change back. Finally, with a supreme effort, it reverted. Now that he had control again, he could go hunting. Nothing must stop the mission.

As he ran out from his latest cover, he suddenly found himself being dragged into the air at breakneck speed. He went higher and higher, faster and faster. Brave as he thought he was, he couldn't hold back the tears. His breath went faster than his body.

The true demon of the Pit was now holding him by the scruff of his neck, completely silent. The demon waited for him to catch his breath and then said just two words:

"Let's talk"


	12. Chapter 12

[After much thought, I decided to let this be a stand-alone section without additional plot, which will come next chapter. It's just such a powerful scene. I don't know if you're convinced, but it sure beats "I don't wear hockey pads". Enjoy, aiwac]

Vol. 1: Honorable Manhood

PART III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 4: Sheep and Sheepdogs

He didn't resist. With his spliced abilities, he could put up a hell of a fight. Instead, the would-be vigilante just hung there - helpless, terrified, in absolute awe of his captor.

"I…I can explain…Please, please just put me down", he said, almost hyperventilating.

Batman felt almost embarrassed for him. He almost wished he'd yell at him instead. It was the criminals that were supposed to be terrified, not guys like him. He moved to a ledge near the Batmobile and dropped his suspect.

"I'm listening"

Fred Watkins stayed on the floor, moving only to button his suit jacket and fix his shoelaces. His hands kept shaking as he did so. Finally, he clenched both hands as tightly as possible and bit his inner lip. Slowly, his breathing steadied, his focus became clear. No, no more being afraid. He looked up at the guardian, eyes fixed.

"I thought about what you did for me, back there in the alley" His teeth clenched as he continued, "I hated it. I hated that you had to risk your life for me. I hated that…that I've always been a coward, always hid behind something or someone. So I figured" he said as he stood up, fully erect "I already had the money, why not make it so I never have to hide again? So that I could protect myself?"

Batman hunkered down and cornered Watkins against a nearby wall.

"You call hunting down Jokerz all over town **protecting** yourself?"

"I'm helping you, aren't I? I'm also getting rid of the scum down here"

Batman grabbed him,

"That include the twenty Jokerz that have gone missing since you started? Cause if I find out you've got anything to do with that…"

"No, no" he said as he shook his head furiously "I would **never** do that to you. You have to believe me. I always leave them to be found and they were always alive when I left. I would **never** destroy your name"

His conviction sounded genuine. Just to make sure, Batman ran every available scan in his suit to check if was lying. Twice. Then he looked into his eyes. What he saw even more unnerving than an admission of guilt. It was a look of awe and reverence, starry-eyed admiration for a God-like hero figure. Terry's hands shook - just a little – then he threw Watkins to the ground again.

"That doesn't change anything. There were at least five Jokerz that almost died from what you did to them. I've been wasting a lot of time trying to clean up your messes, time I could have spent catching **real** crooks"

"Then teach me. Help me become like you"

There was the look again. Terry started to breathe just a little faster. He pondered the offer a lot longer than he should have.

"No", he said resolutely.

"Why?" Watkins asked, practically crestfallen.

"One" he started, in the manner of a strict teacher, "you got into this for all the wrong reasons. You were helpless before and now you've got power. I saw how much you smash up the crime scenes, a lot more than you need to take out criminals. You feel a rush, don't you? When you do this"

Watkins looked down, ashamed. He knew.

"You have it under control now, but all it takes is one slip-up, one second of loss of discipline, and you'll do something you'll regret forever and in **my** name"

"Two, your powers are killing you. Don't think I didn't notice how hard you're trying not to change into a freak of nature. I don't know how you haven't fallen apart already into a million pieces, but if you don't get treatment now, it **will** happen"

Watkins kept looking at Batman, almost as if he was hoping for salvation, like he had all the answers and the solutions. Damn it, stop looking at me like that!

"But let's say I can solve all that. Let's say by some miracle we could solve both those problems. There's something else, something you can't change with training or a cure"

Terry's throat swelled up a bit,

"You're not alone, Mr. Watkins. You have a son, you have friends. These people depend on you. You're going to have to lie to them about where you go and what you do all the time. You'll miss events in their life and they'll resent you for it. You'll either end up alone or hated or both.

You'll spend your nights hunting down monsters who would like nothing better than to kill your family just to get to you. And no matter how good you think you are, there's always the possibility that you won't make it back home. Maybe it'll be someone who's stronger than you or smarter, or maybe it'll just be some dreg who gets lucky. When that day comes, do you really want them telling your son that he's an orphan because you wanted to feel strong?"

Terry let what he said sink in. Watson's demeanor changed from resolution to ambivalence. He now looked a lot more like the guy he'd met in the alley, unsure of himself and scared of the consequences of his actions. He looked like he was already feeling his son's loss. It sucked to have to break him like this even if it was for his own good. Batman tried to soften the blow,

"For what it's worth, you're not a coward. You're just a normal guy trying to protect himself and his family. I've seen lots of guys bigger and tougher than you do the same. You don't need to be a hero, being a good man is more than enough. You don't need to prove yourself to me – not now, not ever"

Terry choked up slightly as he said those words. Watkins wondered whether Batman was referring to him or someone else.

"The Jokerz who bothered you are all locked up, and I don't think any of your victims could ID you in a million years. Go home to your son and stay out of trouble. You want to do some good? Get some of your friends in the industry to invest money down here so normal people can live here. Speaking of normal,"

Terry fished out a digicard from his suit and handed it to Watkins,

"Go to Gotham General, to a Dr. Lionel Stanley. He's a specialist in splicing 'accidents', he's discreet and he knows me. You won't have to pay a cent. No-one will have to know anything"

Watkins took the card and grasped it. He looked up at his hero once again,

"Thank you"

Batman nodded and turned away to fly to his vehicle.

"Can I ask…why **you** do this, day in, day out?"

Batman launched a glare that made him freeze. Still, he deserved an answer.

"So that people like you don't have to"

With that, he took off. A gruff voice sounded on the radio link,

"Nice speech"

Terry laughed silently. Why am I not surprised.

"I meant every word"

Having listened carefully, Bruce wondered whether Terry's speech applied to him as well. He could hear the resentment, the sorrow in his voice when he spoke to Watkins.

"You know, Terry, you don't have to do this, either. You have family and friends. You don't need to prove yourself to me or anyone"

Terry knew that Bruce was trying to protect him, but he couldn't help but feel hurt.

"I didn't get into this for you, Old Man"

Back on the rooftop, Watkins watched his hero leave to fight evil. Slowly, he began his journey to Gotham General, hoping to leave the Pit behind him.

NEXT: Chapter 5: Sheepdogs and Wolves


	13. Chapter 13

[Apologies for taking so long with this. Work and writer's block got in the way. Hope this makes up for it. aiwac]

Vol. 1: Honorable Manhood

PART III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 5: The Burdens We Bear

Dr. Lionel Stanley looked with amazement at the genetic mess he was observing on the screen. You'd think after dozens of cases like this, he'd have gotten used to it…

"I've got to be honest with you, Mr. Watkins. It's a miracle you're alive"

He turned to his patient with a smile.

"If I was a believing man, I'd say you've got a guardian angel watching over you"

"You could say that", Watkins said, a look of pride in his eye.

"Ah, yes, our mutual friend. Not sure I would call him an 'angel'"

"He saved my life. Twice. That's good enough for me", Watkins said smiling, "I guess maybe the Man Upstairs needs a guy to do the dirty work"

"So you **are** a believing man", Stanley said. The look he gave his patient seemed warm, almost like that of a parent knowingly smiling at his small child.

"May as well believe in something", Watkins said apologetically, looking down at the floor.

"Well" Stanley said as he looked at his digi-chart "let's hope for your sake that whoever is Up there owes you a favor"

Watkins' face turned pale,

"It's that hopeless?"

Stanley saw the fear in his patient's eyes. He hated this part of the job. Well, that and his present "unofficial" one.

"Like I said, your DNA is terribly unstable. It's a miracle you're still…"

"So I'm a dead man walking?", Watkins interrupted, his gaze straight on Stanley.

"Not necessarily, no. You may have come in just in the nick of time. We have the best splicing treatment facility in the world here. Wayne-Powers set it up back in the day and it's generously funded by the Wayne foundation. If anyone can save you, we can"

Watkins ignored the sales pitch and searched Stanley's face. Maybe it was his condition, maybe it was his recently discovered bravery, but he could tell something was off. He could smell it a mile away.

He stood up and walked straight towards the doctor. Stanley backed away from the patient, retreating as far as he could. Confrontation wasn't his strong suit. But there was only so much room in the office. Backed against a wall, Watkins slumped before his shorter but far more determined counterpart. Watkins had a look on him, the look of a man who was tired of being pushed around,

"You're hiding something from me. Don't"

Stanley felt on the verge of tears. Maybe it was all the hard cases he'd seen. Maybe it was the fact that he was treating someone else who was even scarier than this one.

"Even with the best therapy, your chances of reverting back to normal DNA are 1 in 10"

"And in the nine other cases?"

Stanley clenched the chart and desperately tried to avoid Watkins' gaze. But the patient grabbed his face and forced the issue. Stanley spoke as if possessed,

"Your DNA will fall to pieces. Your transformations will become less and less controllable. Eventually, your body will give out and collapse. Remember Dr. Cuvier? Think a thousand times worse"

Watkins backed away. He put his shirt back on and carefully buttoned his jacket, making sure everything was in place. Having got what he wanted, he now seemed lost in thought. There was something else, something Stanley hated seeing. It was the look of resignation, of accepting his fate. Now the doctor mustered up some courage,

"If there's anything I can do…"

Watkins looked straight at him, a sad smile on his face,

"You take care of yourself, doctor"

"But you'll be coming back for treatments? I'll clear the whole next week if I have to. Please, don't give up"

Watkins continued to walk towards the door when Stanley tried his last card,

"What would your guardian angel say?"

Watkins looked down and thought for a moment, then replied,

"Even He can't fix everything"

He shut the door.

***

Watkins showed up at his apartment. It was just as messy as he left it – clothes all over the floor and a faint smell of mold permeating the abode. Investigating further, Fred saw that the dishes **still** weren't done. At least he threw out the garbage, he sighed as he thought of his son in the living room, totally absorbed in his computer games. It must be nice in that world – if you died, you simply reset the game and were good as new…

He finished cleaning the kitchen and admired his handiwork. Now for the rooms. He put away all the clothes as neatly as possible, made the beds and thoroughly cleaned the carpets. Everything was spotless. It wasn't this clean when they bought the place.

Last on the list: the laundry room. At least that would be in functioning order before…He expelled the thought from his head, got out his tools and opened up the machine. Wait a minute…

"Michael, who fixed the washing machine?"

No answer.

"MICHAEL!"

"Yeah, the guy finally came and fixed it"

In any other circumstance, he would be overjoyed. But now there was nothing left. No more distractions. Nothing left to fix that could be fixed. Nothing to help him avoid the reality that now hit him like a bullet train.

He was going to die. Not just die, disintegrate into a disgusting pile of filth. Before this happened, he would undergo terrifying agony, far worse than he felt already. All because of the one decision, the one god-damned decision he made on a whim, the one f%^king time he didn't play by the rules.

He put his head in hands, shaking with rage, frustration, helplessness. With his cup overflowing, he yelled out a terrifying, bellowing yell, one which could be heard throughout the apartment.

"Dad, Dad, what happened? What's wrong?"

Fred looked up and saw his son full of worry, for the first time in years. In spite of everything, he really did love him.

"Nothing, I just…I just. Sometimes I just feel so much pressure from work and everything. Don't you ever feel like just letting out all your frustration sometimes?"

"Y…yeah, I guess so…", Michael said, backing away just a little.

No, not that look. What will he look like when it actually happens? Is this how he'll remember me? There has to be another way…that's it! His expression changed very suddenly from distraught to enthusiastic.

"Say, Mike, you want to go to the circus? I hear they're still in town"

"Dad, I'm 20, I'm too old for that…"

"Hmm, how's about combat laser-tag? We've never done that"

"Dad, **you? Combat Laser-Tag?**"

"Sure, why not? You only live once, right?"

"Dad, is something wrong?"

"No, why would anything be wrong? I can't try something new out for a change?"

"No, I guess not…it's just that you never do stuff like that"

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Let's go"

He left the room while his son wondered whether a space alien had abducted his Dad and taken over his body.

"Michael!"

"Coming! I'm coming!"

***

From a distance, Batman observed father and son engage in mock combat. They looked like they were having more fun than they'd had in years. The father in particular looked positively glowing. It was his first fight in weeks that didn't involve a crime scene and ambulances.

It was a bittersweet scene. On the one hand, He was proud of Watkins for making the right decision and wished him the best. But it hurt to see something he would never be able to enjoy.

A gruff voice sounded on the com-link,

"How's our suspect?"

"He's **not** a…he's fine. You should see how much fun they're having", he said with just a twinge of regret.

"You care about him"

"I know, I know, I'm not supposed to let this get personal", he said, rubbing his brow.

"No. But I understand why you do"

"Thanks…I think"

"Is that why you told your Mother about the e-course results?"

Terry froze,

"How did you…"

Then Terry realized his mistake: He didn't know before, not for sure. Now he did. He breathed deeply and tried to explain,

"My Dad never saw anything but a screw-up. Until recently, so did my Mom. Now she's all about my "potential". She used to look at me with pity, now she has all these plans for my future. Even Matt's starting to look at me differently. They **expect** things of me. I don't want to let them down. I promise, they'll never learn about the mission. But I'm through pretending I'm no-one – not to them, at least"

The com-link was silent for a few minutes as Bruce contemplated his own fears of disappointing his father. Then his thoughts went to Terry. He's becoming ambitious. But for what? For Batman? Or maybe he wants to stop hiding who he really is behind a mask – whether literal or figurative? But he gave him that option already? Why is he rejecting it? The World's Greatest Detective was at a loss.

"Fine. Let's move on. What's your take on the Jokerz prison riots?"

"I think someone set it up"

"Really? How's that?"

"Jokerz don't need to riot to get what they want in prison. They outnumber other gangs about five to one in both Wolf Mountain and the Narrows Penitentiary. I looked into it yesterday with Max, but the money trail stopped cold pretty quickly. Whoever organized this really knew what they were doing"

Bruce smiled with pride.

"You heard about Paxton Powers being one of the victims?"

"Yeah, along with about fifty other victims, most with ties to gangs or international crime syndicates. People with a lot more enemies than Powers, Jr. Why?"

"Just following a hunch. Paxton didn't leave any family, so I'll be collecting his belongings on behalf of the company. It's only fair to the 'company's former president'"

Terry enjoyed the tone of contempt in Bruce's voice.

"Let me know what you find. It'll be great to put the whole Powers clan to rest once and for all"

"I'll see what comes up", Bruce said cryptically, "Batman out".

***

Fred Watkins went into the apartment. Still just as grimy as ever. At least it's paid for through the year – no paper or identity trail. You could say a lot of things about the denizens of the Pit, but lack of discretion was not one of them. They could even use that as a slogan – "whatever happens in the Pit, stays in the Pit".

He collected his clothes into a suitcase and then looked around for one last time. He was right. This was no life, fighting forever in a cesspool to end up dumped in an abandoned alley somewhere and found two weeks later. There was no pride in this, no glory. He left without looking back.

A few more blocks and I'll reach the elevator and my old life. Who knows? Maybe I'll even survive to see grandkids. Suddenly, a sharp pain ran through his body. He could feel himself constantly changing, constantly morphing. It was already starting, a lot faster than he expected.

Who the hell am I kidding? Own up to it, old man. You've made your son an orphan because of your selfishness. If you stay up there, you'll kill even more people with your shape-shifting. Batman will probably have to kill you to save others. How terribly ironic.

He ran to a corner, out of sight of the few city lights that still functioned near the elevator. After the pain subsided, he started to smell something. Facepaint. Jokerz facepaint. Sniff, sniff. Recent, too. Not a lot of it, but this area was supposed to be cleared by Batman and the SCU. It seemed to come from the old industrial buildings.

With his heightened animal senses, he found the building. Peering through the window, he tried to find them. Gone. Through the sewer system, most likely. But there was someone else here. He could smell a faint whiff of perfume amid the other smells in the building. Then he saw her, quietly sneaking out the door and walking at a calm, measured pace.

Something was off. She was too well dressed for a Pit resident and too calm for a crime victim. If the Jokerz had robbed her, she would look a lot less coiffed than she did. Whoever she was working for, they must be powerful for her to walk so freely and fearlessly in these parts. He could easily follow her…  
_  
No, NO! Remember what Batman said! No more crime-fighting, you'll only get in the way!_  
_  
To hell with him! I'm dead as it is! At least this way, I'll finally make a difference! This is how I want my son to remember me, as a hero and not some pile of goo!_

He didn't know what made him decide to continue the hunt, whether it was heroism, desperation or simple curiosity. Maybe his fate had already been sealed the moment he turned left instead of right in that alley. It was too late to turn back.

She made her way to the old Gotham nuclear complex. GCPD had closed down this place after all sorts of rumors about waste and radiation leaks. Watkins could remember how the Mayor promised to destroy the condemned building and bring new life to this place. In the end, he was just another would-be savior who failed to live up to his promise.

The outside doors looked as old as they would be. Inside it was different. She entered what looked like one of the new D-683 security doors, the type his insurance company was recommending for banks and government buildings. They'd just finished the prototype last year…

No use trying the door. He broke the wall next to the door and then ripped his way through the steel casing of the elevator shaft. His blood was up. Nothing was going to stop him.

He climbed down the shaft slowly, painfully slowly. Every so often he had to stop to avoid a camera or a laser. Morphing into cold-blooded creatures prevented him from sweating bullets and giving his position away. For once, his shape shifting abilities were saving his life instead of slowly killing him. All I have to do is get in, find out who it is and get out. They're all only human anyway. They can't stop me.

Finally he made it to the elevator door. He morphed into *something* which felt really strong and ripped open the doors. He could see her behind a containment door. Through the window, it appeared to be some kind of hospital room.

Who on earth would be in that kind of room?

He moved to get a better lo…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGHHHH!

Four titanium tentacles ripped into his flesh and ran him through with electricity. He struggled with everything he had, changing shape and destroying the tentacles. But the wires simply reformed and hit him again and again. His will to survive, to **live** was rekindled. He hadn't yet said goodbye to his son. He hadn't told the police or Batman what he'd found. It couldn't end like this.

But there were only so many blows he could take. After what seemed like forever, he collapsed. As he was about to lose consciousness, he could see her conferring with someone outside his field of vision, deciding his fate.

What happens in the Pit, stays in the Pit…

***

His head hurt so much, he would do anything to end the pain. The odor around him smelt foul, even worse than most places in the Pit. Every nerve in his body still seemed to be tingling with electricity. He struggled to open his eyes, but it was all a blur, a haze. Closing his eyes in pain, he kept asking himself,

Where am I?

The floor was cold, freezing even. Between the residual electrical currents and the frigid temperature, it was almost impossible to move.

Am I dead? Is this Hell?

Slowly, he began to feel a strange sort of warmth. A green glow pierced the darkness and a terrifying visage, a nightmare come to life appeared. Death itself seemed to be staring at him. He was smiling.

"You know, I grew up in a pretty old-fashioned home. My brother and I played lots of old games. Our favorite was 'tag'…"

His eyes were a bottomless pit, His body no more than a skeleton. He raised his hand and Hellfire began to accumulate around it. Watkins would scream if he wasn't so terrified.

"…**AND GUESS WHAT? I'M IT**"


	14. Chapter 14

[My deepest apologies for taking so long with this. Kudos for whoever gets the little references in the chapter]

Vol. 1: Honorable Manhood

Part III: Unfinished Business

Chapter 6: My Dreams, They Weren't That Empty  
_  
He saw the shadow of his foe. In anger and frustration he lashed out, releasing a ball of energy to wipe out the bane of his existence._  
_  
"WHY DO YOU PERSIST IN TORMENTING ME? ALL I WANT IS TO BE LEFT ALONE!"_  
_  
"Can't have you run around like this. We have __**rules**__ about radioactive waste, and besides…this is personal…this is personal…this is personal"_

He woke up, his enemy's jab still ringing in his ears.  
**  
Why**, damn you? Who…**what** are you? It can't just be because I killed your father; if that were the case, there would be thousands of Batmen, not just one. What were you after? What **are** you after? It still made no sense.

He started the slow breathing technique he'd been practicing for months. Excessive anger destroyed him the first time. Only patience and discipline would allow him to win the rematch. Finally, he regained control and opened his eyes.

Looking around, it felt that little had changed since that fateful confrontation. He was still in hiding, in a sleek and well-designed room meant to hide from Him. It may as well have been a prison cell. Considering how often he had company, it may as well be solitary confinement. He didn't know how much more of this…isolation he could take.

He turned his attention to the computer monitor at his bedside, anything to end the deafening silence in the room. It didn't take long before he reached what he was looking for.  
_  
"…and I want to assure citizens of Gotham city that Wayne Enterprises is just as committed to Gotham City's welfare as it was before I stepped down. Twenty years ago, I abandoned my family's company to a family of ill repute. That period is now over and done with. Wayne Enterprises is poised to launch a new era in Gotham – one free of its past of crime, corruption and murder. It is time to wipe the slate clean…"_

Two pinpoint holes appeared in the screen, frying the circuits until the whole device melted. The face that emitted them returned to the fury of old.

Do you see what you've done! You haven't just ruined me, you've ruined Gotham City! I took this city out of the sinkhole that miserable old lecher left it in and now you've given it back to him on a silver platter! Is that what you want, to turn back time? Is that…

The idea appealed to him. He started laughing at the absurdity of it all. Of course, it all makes sense now…

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her. The pain she felt was written all over her face, as though she recognized the Man she knew and loved had withered away and was gone. All he could feel was contempt and disgust at the pathetic coward who'd abandoned him to the wolves that night. They're all the same, but they have their uses…

He put on his most charming face possible before speaking.

"It's OK. It's just this…place. It gets to you. Once I get some fresh air, I'll be fine. So, I take it they took the deal"

"Yes, how did you know?"

His smile seemed to contain the kind of menace he showed when someone had to be…removed.

"I know you don't want to disappoint me again. Well", he said as I stood erect, "I have one more important task for y…"

The alarm went off and He hid. Sara peered through the window.

"Someone or something has broken through the perimeter…I don't know how, I swear"

His hand began to glow. A second betrayal would not be tolerated.

"I don't know who he is; I've never met him. Besides, no way he'll survive the defenses"

He kept his hand glowing just in case, as Sara watched the intruder bend and then break in his struggle against the metal tentacles. The burglar was incapacitated, but somehow still breathing. The monster on the other side of the room saw it from the security feed.

"I'll take care of it. Just let make some e-messag…"

"No"

"Sir?"

"Leave him to me"

There was that smile again.

"I think it's time for that fresh air…"

***

They walked together on one of Gotham's newest promenades. Well, perhaps "renewed" would be a better word. Two years ago, only people wearing a badge or face paint would have dared walk around in this part of town. Gotham's renewal was due to the efforts of many individuals, but none more than the suspiciously quiet youth having a romantic stroll with Dana Tan.

Batman's girlfriend. There were girls throughout the world who would love, maybe even kill to have that title. If only they knew how high the price tag was for such bragging rights. You couldn't tell a soul. Every text and mail you sent had to be carefully checked and screened. You and your family could become a target if anyone ever found out. Every night might be His last.

But it was all worth it, because she wasn't really Batman's girlfriend – she was Terry's girlfriend, and that made all the difference. Batman had brought out the best in Terry and could maybe do even more; it had shown him just how great he could be. But if it ever pulled him down…

She lifted her head to check on the object of her contemplation staring intently at something in the distance. If he's checking someone out, I'll…but it wasn't a rival for his affections he looked at. There was a young couple sitting down on a bench about twenty five meters away. Their son ran off with money to go by ice cream while the mother pushed the carriage back and forth. She wondered…

"A penny for your thoughts" she said, even though pennies had long since been abolished.

He stopped in place, his eyes still fixed on the family.

"It's funny. I always used to make fun of Dad: the way he wanted to just live a quiet life, keep his head down and care for his family. No adventure, no excitement, just boringsville all day long. Now I'm wondering if maybe he was on to something. I could do a lot worse."

"You think you could fit that in to your day job?" she teased, a sly smile on her face.

"No way" he shook his head violently. Enough people were in danger because of him; there was no need to add to that list.

"Still, I can't help but wonder…I sometimes dream about quitting and being like that. After all, the whole point of Him was so people like them could live safe, boring lives"

Not splicing themselves half to death or committing Suicide by Cop, a thought Terry constantly had but never let slip – not even to Bruce.

"Give me a break, McGinnis", she said sarcastically, "you wouldn't last three seconds playing a Norman Rockwell Dad"

Batman looked at her, puzzled.

"Don't give me that look, you know I'm right. You forget – I remember you **before** you…got your job or your Dad died. You couldn't spend three seconds without trying some crazy stunt. Besides, you couldn't go two seconds without helping someone after Juvie – with or without it. It's just what you do"

Terry tried to think of a reply when he felt the slightest buzz in his pocket. He moved to a safe area and checked the info. Watkins' tracer had been neutralized. His mind started racing, thinking of an innocent explanation. Maybe the reception in the Pit is giving him trouble again. Maybe Dr. Stanley did some sort of surgery that short-circuited it. His brain kept giving him logical answers, but his Bat-sense was screaming that something was very wrong…

"McGinnis, go."

"Look, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to y…"

"Terry, get out of here before I get **really** mad"

He ran off as Dana went back to thinking about their relationship. Batman's girlfriend. Yeah, it's awesome…usually.

***

Bruce Wayne rode home in complete silence as was his wont, the large package containing all that remained of Paxton Power's life bumping around in the back seat. Well, that and a number of illegitimate children, but he'd seen to their welfare months back. Just because Powers was a criminal didn't mean his children had to suffer.

This was nuts. Terry's analysis of the situation was logical and reasonable. There were any of a hundred people who could have organized the riots, and the prisons contained targets far more valuable than the disgraced and broke former head of Wayne-Powers. But his instinct had never (correction, rarely) failed him before, and something deep inside told him that somehow it all went back to Paxton.

He climbed the stairs to the entrance to the Batcave and placed the heavy box on the examination table. Somewhere in this box of knickknacks lay the answer. He had to find it out. The very idea of a case left unsolved was simply unacceptable, and he had to do it himself.

Putting his cane to one side, he opened the box.

***

Watkins still couldn't move, he was so terrified. The deathly visage's expression changed from delight to confusion and then disgust.

"You're not even going to TRY to fight me?! Even those clowns made **something** of an effort!"

He surveyed the landscape under the monster's green glow, mangled and scorched bodies clothed in Jokerz outfits told him the futility of resistance. He closed his eyes and prepared to accept his fate.

"I see. You need an incentive, something to look forward to. OK" he said fishing in his pocket "this device will shut down all the security machines. All you have to do is get through me. Fair enough?"

Watkins still wouldn't move. There was no point. He was dead either way.

"Well, then" he said, reading the prisoner's ID card, "**Fred Harwell Watkins**. I guess Michael wouldn't mind if I paid him a vis…"

He burst forth from his apathy, seething with rage and determination. Blight was stunned by the fury of his assault. Watkins pinned him but was then blasted with green hellfire. It had no effect, and he ignored the pain. You're not going anywhere **near** him, you SOB.

Watkins grew huge tentacles from his spine, becoming in form one of the great terrors of his childhood in the flesh. They whipped around and grew to huge proportions.

"You're not the only one who knows how to look scary, you piece of garbage"

He grabbed all of Blight's limbs and thrashed him around with all the strength he could muster. Both absorbed the electrical shocks that ran through the walls, but Watkins was like a man possessed; nothing would stop him. Blight kept trying to burn the tentacles holding him, but Watkins simply regrew them and continued the punishment. Whatever happened, only one man was coming out of here alive – and Watkins was determined to be that man.

He beat him around again. And again. And again. And again. Finally, his tormenter gave up and stopped moving. He released him, or more accurately discarded him in the corner of the room, crumpled up like one of his victims.

Breathing heavily, he approached the device and neutralized the security measures. All that was left was to escape and alert the authorities. But the pain started to overcome him and every move hurt. It would take him time to make it out; if He was somehow still alive, Michael might still be killed before help would arrive. He had to make sure.

Slowly approaching, he started probing the body cautiously, sparking a few ebbs of glow but nothing living. He breathed a sigh of relief - and then was blasted across the room by a massive blast of hellfire. Laser like-rays of green singed and kept him in place, writhing in pain. He was coming closer.

"Very impressive. It would have worked too – a year ago, when I still had a body left to break"

Overwhelmed with pain, he looked not with fear but with rage at the demon. The latter continued,

"You're certainly more of a match than these fools, but they have a purpose. I'm afraid you don't"

His teeth were clenched, but he was still held down by the green rays.

"But do you want to know why you **really** lost?"

"No. Why?"

His hand came closer and closer to his midsection. The green hellfire expanded until it consumed him. The sacrifice was made.

"**YOU'RE NOT A REAL MONSTER**"

Blight finished his immolation and then stood erect. Walking and whistling back to the table, his artificial skin regrowing as he went, he took out a fresh change of clothes from a box in another corner of the room and slowly put them on. Then he fished out a small smartpad from the pants pocket and turned it on. All of Sara's data was there. Good. There was one last thing to do. Once he got outside the building, he pressed the button on the back of the smartpad. The whole dark Pit seemed to light up from the force of the explosion. It was beautiful to behold.  
_  
"And behold I shall be reborn from the ashes of the City of Sin, for they have forsaken Me and shall be smote down. And all that is shall burn…"_

***

Bruce carefully combed through each item, cataloguing everything as he went along. There was nothing of value, at least not yet. He was almost to the bottom of the box. Deep down, he hoped he was wrong, that for once he really was just being paranoid.

The Batcomputer flashed with reports of a major explosion and fire in the Pit. Bruce scanned the screen briefly. Fire cars and police vehicles were on their way. Terr…Batman was already at the scene. No doubt he'd get a report soon enough.

Pit emergencies could wait; he returned to his excavation. He removed a large buckskin coat Paxton had no doubt poached to reveal the last of the items.  
Bruce froze.

It was a fishing rod. The dots were connected.

He looked back at the monitor. The flames that spewed forth from the Pit made sense now. This was no arbitrary accident, but something far, far worse. For the first time in months, Bruce Wayne felt fear.

***  
_  
Present Day_

You could see it for miles. The smoke and flame spewing from Gotham's last great estate caught the attention of everyone even as the emergency continued within the city. Pictures and videos posted en masse confirmed what was utterly unthinkable but half a year ago.

The House of Wayne was about to go down in flames.

NEXT: PART IV: The World Turned Upside Down


End file.
